After It All Ends
by twenteseven
Summary: Starts with Brendan 30 days into his prison sentence following on from events in the show. Will basically be Stendan working out how to carry on after what's happened and maybe, just maybe, getting a happier result at the end of it ;) *COMPLETE*
1. Chapter 1

_**Hi, this is my first ever fanfic, felt as if I had to write something as some sort of therapy after what happened!** **Please review to let me know what you think and whether I should carry on with it. There will be Ste in later chapters this is just to kind of set the scene with where Brendan's head is.**_

Brendan woke up with the sound of the gunshot reverberating around his head. He felt the familiar panic in his chest and the beads of sweat running from his forehead. His eyes adjusted to the faint artificial light coming through his door, and he felt his racing heart return to normal as he took in his surroundings and remembered where he was. No armed police, no SWAT vans, no megaphone barking instructions for him to drop to his knees. All he could hear now was the sound of grown men screaming in their cells, unsure whether he had been amongst their ranks a few minutes ago.

He sat up on his bed, mattress thin as a sheet and the metal bed frame providing the least amount of comfort possible. It was still dark in his cell, it was the middle of the night but he had no idea how long he had slept for. Living without the constraints of time, without ever knowing what time it was, was meant to be liberating, but not on the inside. On the inside he was constantly counting down, day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute, second by second. Even though he knew there would be nothing left for him when he reached the end. 30 years. 1,560 weeks. 10,950 days. 10,950 nights spent without him.

It was only in these moments, dead of night, all alone, that he allowed himself to think about what his life had become, left to rot in here all alone. He supposed the only advantage to being such a high profile prisoner was that he was given a cell all to himself – he was deemed too much of a danger to other inmates to have to share.

Word has spread around that he had murdered his own father, his grandmother, notorious gangster Danny Houston (which had made him surprisingly popular amongst some inmates), a rogue police officer (full marks for popularity for this one), and another man whose body was yet to be discovered, presumed butchered into small parts and fed to pigs somewhere. Brendan never spoke of his crimes; in fact he didn't speak much at all to the other prisoners, which lead to Chinese whispers exaggerating the terrible things he had done. His reputation somewhat preceded him.

The bravest, or most stupid, of the prisoners looked upon Brendan Brady as a challenge. If they could break him, the one that everyone was talking about, that everyone seemed afraid of, then they would become feared and respected. But as soon as they got close enough to look into his eyes, they all saw the same murderous intent, and his status as resident psycho was yet to be challenged.

And that was how Brendan Brady liked it.

He had lost everything when he came here. He was done with people; he was done with caring. He had opened himself up to love and now it was torn away from him, he was left with complete devastation, a feeling more painful and excruciating than any gunshot wound could ever inflict. He was a man on the edge of insanity, and his conscious mind decided to exploit this to keep people away. He didn't want anyone thinking they could get close to him in here, he wanted them all backing away from him out of fear, confusion or unease.

So he growled at people when they looked at him. He smiled menacingly at the guards when they ordered him around, baring his top teeth like a rabid animal. He literally barked in the face of one younger inmate who held his hand out to introduce himself on his first day. If he was psycho enough, people would just leave him alone.

But it was in these moments now, when he had awoken from the same nightmare again, sitting alone in the dark of his cell, that he let himself just be who he was. When he let his thoughts wander off to happier times. To thoughts of what could have been. To Steven.

He felt a familiar silent tear run down his cheek as he lay back down on his side, holding his pillow tight to his chest and bringing his knees up, curling himself up into a ball. He thought about what he would be doing now. He thought about his beautiful soft face as he had slept beside him peacefully. Brendan could watch him sleep for hours, at his most beautiful, counting each and every one of his devastatingly long eyelashes. Marvelling at the way they rested on his bronzed cheek, his eyes flickering slightly with the dreams he dreamt behind his eyelids. He admired the boys perfectly symmetrical eyebrows and his perfectly sized nose. And those lips, full and pouty, soft to kiss and completely filthy when Brendan wanted them to be. How could he have done anything to hurt this boy?

He touched his thumb gently against his bottom lip, sure he could still feel Steven there, could still taste his tongue against his own, the memory so vivid and alive that it made Brendan feel alive again for a second. His breath hitched in his throat and he realised his tears were in full flow now, the familiar knot in the gut of his stomach as he dragged himself back to reality where there was no Steven, and no hope of Steven ever being there again. He was in danger of screaming his name, begging for him, stopping himself just in time by biting down hard on his fist. His teeth settled into the marks left there the previous night, and the one before that. This was becoming a pattern, every night waking, thinking of Steven, inflicting physical pain on himself to stop the emotional pain he felt course throughout his entire body.

He lay there in his own desolation, a broken man. The silent tears subsided after a while and he could feel himself drifting back off to sleep, hoping this time he could dream of happier times with Steven, rather than the usual nightmare of life without him by his side.

He woke up the next morning, familiar sounds of metal against metal as the cell doors opened, the prison bell buzzing in the distance, guards yelling at prisoners to get up. He sat on his bed, looked around his cell in the daylight. He had counted every brick on the wall now. He had studied every crack, inspected every inscription etched into the walls. He ticked off another day in his head – he was 30 days in now.

He heard the guard approaching his cell and stood up. He looked at himself briefly in the mirror, saw the real him, Brendan Seamus Brady. Father of two young boys; brother of one bubbly bottle blonde; One True Love to the most perfect man on the planet. He saw the pain he felt reflected back in his own eyes – the pain that he couldn't let anybody else see. He swallowed, threw his head from side to side, took a sharp breath and regained control of his expression. He looked at himself now with hooded eyes and a snarling mouth. This is the only Brendan Brady anybody in here would see.

The guard stopped outside his cell and threw a white envelope on the floor. Brendan lurched forward towards the guard when he dared to look at him, and he scuttled away quickly. Brendan looked down at the envelope, intrigued. He had not gotten one of these before, but he remembered it had been 30 days now and he was entitled to visitors. His heart leapt at the thought.

He gingerly picked the envelope up, peeled it open and unfolded the letter inside. He skimmed it quickly, his eyes being drawn to the only four words on the page that mattered:

"Visitation Order,"

and then further down the page,

"Steven Hay"


	2. Chapter 2

_**Thanks so much for the reviews! It really means so much and I'm so glad you enjoyed it :) It has spurred me on to write another chapter today, so here it is!**_

_Chapter 2_

Ste stood up and stared impatiently through the small glass window where the prison guards were sat talking. He sighed loudly to get their attention but they ignored him, so he kicked the legs of his chair out of frustration and started to pace the waiting room. He could see the other visitors eyeballing him, tutting as he brought attention to himself with his impetuous fidgeting. Why was it taking so long for Brendan to come to him?

Every time the prison officer opened the door he called out a different name; Ste would look up in desperation, hoping beyond hope that it was his turn, but every time it was somebody else. Ste sneered at whoever it was as they stood up and were escorted through to the visitors' room.

He sat down, threw his head into his hands and grunted angrily, his leg twitching with anxiety as he looked at his watch and realised he had been in this room for over an hour now. He marched up to the guards out of desperation.

"What's takin' so long mate? Does he know I'm 'ere?"

"Yes Mr Hay, prisoner Brady has been issued with your Visiting Order. He knows the visiting hours and if he wants to see you he knows that he just has to come down with the Visiting Order and you will then be called in to see him."

The guard turned away from him, jumping slightly as Ste slammed his fists down on the side before walking back to his chair and sitting down, head in his hands, constantly alert for the door to his left to be opened and the next name to be called.

After a while he glanced at the clock, hoping only a few minutes had passed and Brendan had just been held up for a bit and was still on his way down to him. His heart sank as he realised how much time had actually passed, and that visiting hours were nearly over - he only had 30 minutes left. He had been there for 3 and half hours, waiting for Brendan.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket for the first time since he got there. 4 missed calls from Doug, 1 voicemail and 1 missed call from Amy. He cleared them from his screen and looked at the picture on his wallpaper of the three most important people in his life. Brendan, Leah and Lucas. He went into his call history and tapped on Brendan's name, there at the top of his recently called list, put the phone to his ear and waited for the all too familiar sound.

"You've reached Brendan Brady. You know what to do." He hung up before the tone finished, as always.

Ste smiled at the sound of his voice, that thick Irish drawl lingering in his ear. Before he had been sent down, Ste loved that message. He loved how detached and serious he sounded in it, because that was how Brendan wanted the world to see him, and Ste felt privileged that he was one of the few people who knew the real Brendan Brady, behind the alter ego. He laughed to himself, remembering when he had poked fun at Brendan for this, leaving him a cheeky voicemail the night they had come back from Dublin.

"Oooh, hello Mr Brendan Brady," he had teased, emphasising his name as if he was some sort of god, "this is your lover here, Steven Hay. I'm not sure I do know what to do actually, I'd love for you to come straight round to mine and show me. I do love it when you teach me new things," and he had signed it off with that deep playful laugh of his and a kiss. He remembers getting a text response from him later that night that simply read:

_You cheeky fecker. I've still got a few things to teach you._

That had made him smile like a teenage girl with a first crush.

Ste was pulled from his reverie by the guards booming voice, "Visiting hours are over. Please leave straight away."

"What?" Ste questioned, standing up with a jolt, desperation in his voice. "Please, I've been here for hours can you just go and get him, he must not know that I'm here." He pleaded, but he was ignored, the guards ushering out the other people waiting with him.

He ran back up to the glass window, "Please, just let me know if he's ok? I've been here for hours. Please, I just -"

"Mr Hay," the guard cut Ste off mid-sentence, oblivious to the anguish in his voice, not caring one bit for the troubled man in front of him, "it seems prisoner Brady has no interest in seeing you, please leave now, visiting hours are over."

"But, no!" Ste started, but he was cut off again.

"Mr Hay, you will be escorted off these premises if you do not –"

"Please," Ste interrupted, "just let me know if he's ok, he's not hurt or anythin' is he?"

"Mr Hay, you are down as prisoner Brady's next of kin so you will be informed if anything happens to him. Now leave."

Ste stopped for a minute; he couldn't deny the warm rush that had run through him at the thought of Brendan giving his name as the one person he wanted to be contacted if anything should happen to him. He let his mind run away with what this meant. Everything Brendan had said to him in the hospital – it couldn't be true. He still wanted to be part of his life. He knew it. There must have been some mistake today; Brendan must not have received his request to see him. Why else would he have left him waiting here all day? It must be a mistake –

He was pulled from his thoughts by one of the guards grabbing him by the elbow, pulling him towards the door.

"Alright, mate, leave it out I'm going," Ste argued, "I'll be seeing you tomorrow though, me. I'm coming back every day until he sees me."

And with that he was thrown out of the door.

-s-

Brendan sat alone in his cell. He hadn't left it today. Not even to feed himself in the canteen. He had sat on his bed, the envelope in his hand, desperately trying to reign in the desire he had to run straight down to the visitors room and hold his Steven in the closest embrace, to inhale his scent, to feel his soft skin under his fingers once again. It had taken every ounce of self-control he had to stay here, to keep away from him. He needed to let Steven move on and live his life. There was nothing he could offer him anymore.

He opened the cabinet to the side of his bed and pulled out his bible. He flicked to the centre pages and took out the rough-edged piece of card that he had hidden there. He looked down and saw Steven's face beaming back at him. It was the picture he had ripped from Steven and Douglas' wedding invitation – the only picture he had of Steven. He wasn't the type to go into town and print a picture off at the nearest photo booth, so this was all he had. The only image of his one and only love, all he had to keep him going for the next 30 years.

He felt his resolve weakening. He knew Steven was downstairs, could feel his presence near him. He couldn't give in. He had to be strong – for Steven. He would thank him eventually, once he had gotten over Brendan. Steven would forget about him in time, he had no other choice. Brendan stood up and walked towards the door slowly. He closed the door, locking himself in, shutting out the rest of the world, creating as many barriers as he could to stop himself from giving in to the aching longing in the pit of his stomach.

He sat back down on the bed, holding the picture in front of him. He kissed it gently, held it against his chest, dipped his head and allowed himself to feel the pain coursing through him, giving in to the emotional turmoil that threatened to consume him.

-s-

Standing outside of big bad Brendan Brady's cell, the new inmate dared to look in through the small letterbox sized hole. What he saw surprised him. He had expected to see inside the mind of a mad man, to see what a genuine psycho did when he was all alone with his thoughts. But Brendan didn't know he was being watched. Brady was holding a picture in front of him. He kissed it gently, the devastation clear in his face. He looked like a broken man, a man on the edge of tears.

Could this mean what he thought it meant?

The young man smiled to himself, walking away from Brendan's cell and leaning back against the wall. Had he just seen Brendan Brady in a moment of weakness?

The smile crept further over his face as he threw his hands inside the pockets of his regulation prison tracksuit bottoms and walked back to his cell. He had a way in.

_**Please review :) xx**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Thanks again for the reviews and follows I really appreciate them all! Sorry it's still a bit depressing, things will pick up I swear!**_

_**Oh, and I apologise that this is definitely not an accurate portrayal of what happens in prison I'm sure!**_

_**Hope you enjoy :)**_

It was the monotony of the day to day routine that was really starting to grate on Brendan. He was strong – he could force himself to cope with the lack of freedom, the constant noise, the group showering and the hideous canteen food. He could block out his cravings for warmth and comfort. Lord knows, he had been a prisoner of his own demons for most of his life already.

What he couldn't cope with, however, was how tedious life was on the inside. The same routine, every single day. Wake up, roll call, cell inspection, breakfast, exercise in the yard, a few hours in the library, lunch, work in the prison laundry, tea, return to cell, roll call, bed. Day in, day out. Three months of groundhog day.

And then there was the other part of his daily routine – one that filled him with more dread than any of the other menial tasks, whilst being the highlight of it all at the same time. Brendan sat in his bed and took out the wedge of envelopes from his bedside cabinet. All 64 of them – one for every day since that first one had arrived 30 days into his sentence. Steven's visiting orders.

To begin with they had driven him crazy. To know that Steven was downstairs, within touching distance and yet in every sense of the word he was completely unreachable. He was so close. He was tempted every day to give in; some days more than others the need to see him would consume him. He could just go down for a few minutes, if only to beg him to stay away, to make him understand that there was nothing he could offer him anymore, that as much as it would have killed him to say it, he needed him to move on. But he didn't give in, because he knew in reality he wouldn't have been giving in to the need to push him away again, he would have been giving in to the desire racing throughout his entire to body to just be able to see him again. He would be quenching that insatiable thirst which consumed him, the need to see him, make sure he was OK, to promise him that he would never feel any differently about him, that he changed his life completely. There just weren't enough words in the dictionary for him to be able to explain to Steven how he felt about him, but when they were together, he remembered vividly, they didn't need words, because he would look into the young boys beautiful eyes and he would know. He would know that he felt exactly the same.

He found himself caught in the same catch-22 every day that Stevens visiting request slammed onto the floor of his cell. If he went down to see him, just the once, he would be able to tell him to keep away, to stop wasting his time coming here every day. But if he did see him, Steven would be able to see the truth in his eyes, as he had always been able to, and he would have renewed hope deep down that it would never be truly over. And then Steven would come back every day wanting more, and over time Brendan would be worn down again and again, until he had taken over Steven's life, not letting him move on as he had promised himself he would.

But if he didn't go to see him – well, Steven would give up eventually, but how long would it take? How much of his life was he going to waste sitting around the waiting room for Brendan? He knew if it was the other way round, he could never see himself giving up on Steven. So if he gave in just the once, went to see him, forced himself to stay strong and make sure Steven knew to give up, to stay away, to move on with his life, then maybe this cycle of what Brendan wanted and what Brendan needed Steven to do would end.

And throughout it all he had the constant nagging in the pit of his stomach, making him feel physically sick – after everything they had been through, he never wanted to do anything to make Steven doubt how much Brendan loved him. Still loves him. With every fibre of his being.

This dilemma he faced every morning; part of his daily routine. He held the wedge of envelopes up to his face, let the cool paper brush against his lips, across his beard which had taken place of the 'tache over the past few weeks. He realised that deep down the arrival of this bit of paper every morning comforted him – at least he knew Steven was ok, he was alive and safe and, despite everything, he still wanted Brendan. He smiled at the thought, placed the envelopes under his pillow and lay back as the guards shouted for lights out.

Thoughts of Steven on his brain he couldn't control the desire, the irresistible urge for release, and felt his hand smoothing down his own body and into his boxer shorts. He gave himself over to it completely, memories of the nights he had spent in Steven's company. He closed his eyes and let his mind run away with itself, his body responding to the intensity of his memories as they danced behind his eyelids.

-s-

Brendan awoke the next morning, reaching out instinctively to his left. He groaned out loud when reality set in and he found it empty, his knuckles hitting the cold walls of his cell instead of the warm body he had hoped to find there. This was killing him. He missed Steven so much, especially in the mornings.

He missed human contact in general. He had created this persona to keep people away in here, and it had worked. Guards moved out of his way as he walked through the prison; inmates moved aside as he strolled into the exercise yard and headed for his favourite weights machine; even the heavy fisted prisoners left him well alone out of complete apprehension about exactly how far Brendan would be willing to go to protect himself. He had set it up for himself now, he could go his entire sentence without having to waste a single breath on any of these lowlifes.

But with every day that passed, he became more and more jaded, boredom setting in on an unprecedented scale. He had always enjoyed playing with peoples lives, using them as pawns in his games, using them to gain power and control, and he was starting to miss that. He had been good at that, it had kept his mind busy. He missed making himself laugh with how predictable people were, how easy it was to manipulate them into doing exactly what he wanted them to. He wondered whether maybe it was about time he starting playing with some of his fellow inmates.

He made his way down to the canteen for breakfast, picking up his tray and walking to the front of the line as usual, turning his head slowly to the side to stare out one new inmate who obviously hadn't got the memo yet – this is Brendan Brady; he does what he wants. The guy opened his mouth to start something, but the man he was with held him back, one look telling him all he needed to know. Stay out of Brendan Brady's way.

Brendan watched as the bowl of lumpy grey porridge was thrown onto his tray alongside two pieces of cold greasy toast.

"Lovely, as always ladies," he commented to the kitchen staff, over emphasising the smile on his face for two short seconds before snapping straight back to his usual stoney faced demeanour.

He took his tray and sat on the same table as always to the left of the room, all alone, the perfect spot to watch over the scum he was forced to live amongst.

One such scumbag was inching his way dangerously close to Brendan's table and he didn't like it. He glanced ahead, spotting the skinny guy making his way towards him out of the corner of his eye. He had noticed this same guy before, remembering the first time had seen him and for a split second, his heart had leapt into his throat as he had allowed himself to believe it was the one person he wanted to see more than anything. But the young lad had turned around and he knew then it wasn't Steven – he was partly relieved, to know that he hadn't succumbed to a life of crime in order to be with him; and yet there was a pang of disappointment he couldn't ignore.

As the same lad sat down now on the table opposite Brendan, he wondered how he could have ever mistaken this boy as a poor imitation of his beloved. He had the same skinny yet toned build, and the same light brown hair styled into a slight quiff at the front. But his features left a lot to be desired. He wasn't blessed with Steven's beautiful blue eyes, framed with the longest and softest eyelashes he had ever seen on a man; instead he had big grey green eyes, wide open and inquisitive, almost bulging from their sockets. His cheekbones were not defined like Steven's were; his lips were not soft and kissable like Steven's were; his skin not sun kissed and golden and soft like silk to the touch. He was nothing next to Steven.

"Hi," the young lad dared to break the silence Brendan had imposed on himself on the inside, "I'm Karl."

Brendan stopped stuffing his toast into his mouth and looked up at this daredevil with a steely glare. A sinister laugh escaped through his parted lips as he stared into his eyes. He hoped this said all he needed to say and returned to his breakfast, praying for the boy to leave.

"I've heard a lot about you, Brendan," he continued, his accent unrecognisable - it didn't appear he had gotten the message, "you spend a hell of a lot of time on your own in here don't you. Know what I reckon? I think there's only so much one man can take."

He paused, obviously hoping for this to stir some sort of reaction in Brendan. After a few seconds he carried on, pushing even further.

"I think you've got hidden depths Brendan Brady. And I think you're just as desperate as the rest of us to get out of here, because I think there's someone you really care about waiting for you on the outside." He had a constant smirk on his face as he talked, like he was proud of himself for daring to speak out to Brendan.

Brendan flipped, lifting himself off the table in one swift movement and hurling himself towards Karl. He heard the screech of Karl's chair across the floor as he tried to dodge the oncoming assault; heard the smash of the plates as they hit the floor. He growled at the boy, low and threatening from the back of his throat, stormed over to him and lifted him two inches off the ground with a single hand grabbing onto the buttons on the chest of his polo t-shirt. He said nothing, just held him there, staring intently into the boys eyes, before dropping him into a heap on the floor.

Karl watched him leave, and couldn't help but admire the Irishman's form as he walked away. He smiled as he realised he had hit a nerve; he had found Brendan's weak spot. He ignored the anger he had just evoked, swearing to himself that he would keep chipping away until one day, that passion would be directed at protecting him, not pushing him away.

Brendan tried to carry on with his day, putting in his hours in the laundry, but Kevin's words kept gnawing away at his subconscious – how had this lad seen straight through him? He had given away no clues; nobody could have had any inclination that Brendan was anything other than a psychotic serial killer who had brutally murdered several innocent people. People should want to stay away from him. How could this guy have seen past that?

He returned to his cell late in the afternoon, and as he walked through the entrance, his eyes fell straight to the empty space on the floor. His heart sank to the pit of his stomach. His eyes searched over all the available surfaces, hoping to see what he was looking for, but it was nowhere to be seen.

"Hmm. Strange." He commented out loud, to himself.

Today there had been no white envelope.

-s-

It had been three days now without a visiting order from Steven. Three whole days.

Had he finally given up? Had he moved on? Had something happened to him? The thought alone made Brendan want to rush over to the basin in the corner of his cell and vomit.

Brendan was lying on his bed, shirt off, arms behind his head as he stared to the ceiling. He was awake early again, it hadn't escaped his notice that the nightmares had become an every night occurrence again since Steven had stopped trying to see him. He couldn't stop the nagging feeling that something had happened to him. He needed to do something to check, and decided that once his cell was opened this morning he would go to make a phone call, dial Steven's number and just wait for him to pick up. Once he had heard his voice, once he knew that he was ok, he would hang up and leave him then, for the rest of his life.

He got up and dressed, ready to make a move as soon as roll call and cell inspection was over. He stood anxiously as the guards made their way into his cell, checked for contraband and general tidiness, Brendan shifting from side to side impatiently, could feel the despair bubbling under the surface of his calm exterior. The guards left, satisfied all was as it should be, and Brendan darted straight from his cell to the corridor and the public telephone. He lifted the receiver and dialled Steven's number, knew it off by heart, leaning back to the wall as he waited for the call to connect.

"Come on, Steven," he muttered under his breath as the dial tone echoed through his ear, "answer your phone, Steven."

It continued to ring out, 7 rings, 8 rings, 9 rings. With each new ring he felt his knees get weaker beneath him, panic taking over his senses, complete dread that something could have happened to him.

12 rings. 13 rings. A connection. "You have reached the voicemail messaging service for 07730 –"

"NO!" Brendan screamed out, slamming the receiver repeatedly against the handset, leaving it dangling from the wall as he stormed away. He had completely lost it, shoulder barging Karl on his way past him back to his cell, ready to lash out, to trash his cell, needed to let his anger out. He pushed his cell door open, closing it behind him and punching his fist into the solid concrete wall, feeling the pain course through his hand and seeing the blood trail down his palm and his wrist. He wasn't ready to stop there, he turned to his bed and reached out to throw it against the wall. But something caught his eye and stopped him in his tracks. A white envelope placed on his bed.

"Oh, please," he prayed, grabbing it and hurriedly opening it, "please, please, please," he begged as he unfolded the paper, would lay down his own life in that moment to see Steven's name there, to know that he was OK.

But it wasn't Steven's name he read.

It was Amy Barnes.

The colour drained from his face, all anger removed from his body in a single second and replaced by confusion and dread. What did this mean? Why would she have any interest in coming to visit him here? There could only be one reason, surely.

Without a further moments delay he took the envelope and paced the unfamiliar route along the corridor, past the other cells and down towards the visitors room. The guard ushered him through and he hesitated. He had the sudden urge to run away, to hide from all of this. To deny that this could be happening. He didn't know if he was ready to hear what he was sure Amy was here to tell him.


	4. Chapter 4

_**OK, so the chapters seem to be getting longer and longer sorry about that! I know it must seem like its taking ages for them to see each other again, but I promise next chapter they will! I have put a little flashback in this chapter though because I needed to write some happy Stendan!**_

_**Hopefully will update again in the next couple of days, please review to let me know what you think :)**_

Chapter 4

He walked through the doors to the visiting room, his eyes searching the unfamiliar surroundings to find the face he recognised. She was sat at the far side of the room, wringing her hands together in an obvious display of nerves and apprehension. As he got closer, Brendan braved himself for the tell tale signs of grief – red, swollen eyes, no make up, hair dragged back in a messy bun. How she had looked that day in hospital after the fire. He was relieved to see none of this at first glance, but steeled himself nonetheless for the bad news he was certain she was here to tell him.

"Hello, Brendan." She started as he approached her table, the same dismissive tone in her voice as always, almost as if she had spit the words out of her mouth in disgust.

"Amy," Brendan acknowledged as he sat down, "Is he OK?"

He was a desperate man; he didn't have time to play it cool and waste time with pleasantries, especially with Amy. He needed to know.

It seemed to take her forever to answer his question. As if what he was asking wasn't as simple as he intended it to be.

"No, Brendan," she looked down at her hands as Brendan's heart fell straight to the floor, his world collapsing around him, "he's not OK."

He felt those words shoot straight through his heart like a bullet at full speed. Their impact causing more damage there than any physical pain ever could. He couldn't process this, it just didn't seem real to him. It took time for what she had just said to sink in; he felt his chest close in completely. He couldn't breathe. He choked, felt sick to the pit of his stomach. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, but he couldn't bring himself to cry. Tears weren't strong enough for the emotion Amy's words had just evoked. His world had stopped.

Amy saw his reaction, knew then that he had taken her words the wrong way. She reached out and grabbed his wrist as he looked like he was about to stand up and run.

"I mean, he is OK, Brendan," she saw the mixture of confusion and apprehensive relief flash in his eyes as she let her hand go, "but you just left him, you know. He's all alone, he's heartbroken. You won't let him visit. He's not himself since you left. I'm worried about h-"

"Jeez, Amy!" Brendan cut her off, sighing shakily as he desperately tried to regain his composure. "How could you do that to me?" his voice high pitched with exasperation, "I thought – Jeez – I thought you meant –"

He couldn't speak the words, couldn't bear that thought in his head a moment longer. He leant his elbows against the table and threw his head into his hands, partly to hide the few stray tears of pure relief that were threatening to escape down his cheeks.

"I understand why you're doing it Brendan," Amy was carrying on despite his partial breakdown, "I really do understand. You're finally doing what you think is right by him." she paused, expecting Brendan to react but he kept his face hidden from her and remained silent.

"It's just –" she continued, unsure if she was doing or saying the right thing. "It's been three months now, he's just getting worse. I thought he would move on from you eventually. I thought he would realise that this is for the best. But he just won't give up. He's been drinking, all day, everyday. I spoke to Doug and he hasn't been in the deli for weeks. Last time he saw Ste, Doug sent him home because he turned up to work without having slept all night, stinking of whiskey and cigarettes. He saunters round the village making threats at anybody who crosses him – it's like he's trying to _be_ you, Brendan."

She waited for him to respond, but when she got nothing she continued, "Every time I come over with the kids he's either drunk or he's on his way to see you here. He's here every day, Brendan. Every single day. Do you even know that?"

Brendan moved his hands away from his face to allow himself to speak. "Yeah, I know that Amy. I know he comes."

"Well, why won't you see him? Do you just sit up there and ignore him, or-"

"It's the hardest part of my day, Amy, every single day." He snapped at her, hitting his palm against the table and drawing attention from the others sitting nearby. He lowered his voice almost to a whisper; "Some days it makes me physically sick, ye know, to know that he is down here, waiting for me. You can't even understand how much I want to see him. But I can't give in, Amy. You know I can't."

They sat in silence for a while, both of them starting to find a mutual understanding for the others situation. Brendan took the time to look around the unfamiliar room, his eyes passing over the fellow prisoners and the variety of their visitors – girlfriends, teenage kids, wives, mothers, brothers, fathers, dubious looking associates. His eyes scanned to the left of him and he saw Karl there, staring back at him intently, as if he had been watching the whole time. He dropped his gaze and returned it to Amy.

"I just don't know what you want me to do this time, Amy. You're usually so keen for me to stay away."

She sighed in response. "There's something else you should know, Brendan."

Her pause told Brendan this wasn't something he was going to want to hear.

"He stole a car. He was drunk, had been on the whiskey all afternoon, he drove it drunk round the lanes on the way into Chester." She spoke slowly, as if she was trying to break the bad news to him gently.

Brendan's eyes widened in surprise at what she was saying. He couldn't reconcile such reckless behaviour with the Steven he knew and loved, the Steven he had left behind.

"He smashed into another car, sent it flying over the bank and wrapped his own car round a tree. He's ok though, thank god the impact was on the passenger side so he walked away just a few cuts and bruises. But the other driver, he's still in hospital – broken ribs, broken leg, whiplash and concussion. Ste's not even said he was sorry. He's shown no remorse whatsoever."

Brendan was speechless, aware his mouth had dropped open and he was starting at Amy now in disbelief. "Wh – Wha - When?" He managed to ask.

"It was three days ago. He spent the night in the cells. He's been charged with taking a vehicle without consent and drink driving. He pleaded guilty and his sentencing is next week, Monday."

Brendan was shocked. He muttered under his breath, "Why, Steven? Why would you do that to yerself?"

Amy guessed she wasn't meant to answer this question. She looked at the broken man who sat before her. He really was a shadow of his former self. The 'tache was gone, replaced with a messy unkempt beard; his sharp suits were now sweatshirts and tracksuit bottoms. His arrogance, the glint in his eye, had all but disappeared. If she cared enough to worry, she would be worried about him now.

"You really love him, don't you?"

Her words lingered in the air between them.

"Keep your voice down, Amy."

It was all he had in him – he couldn't deny how he felt, couldn't even force the lie out of him anymore. Steven was his whole entire world, he would love him until the end of time.

The bell rang on the wall, reminding Brendan of break time at school, but now it was signalling the end of visitors hours. Amy pushed her chair backwards to get up to leave.

"Erm, Ste heard from Cheryl, by the way. Her and Nate, they have set a date for the wedding, for Christmas time. She said she had written to you, but didn't know if you had got the letter."

"Ye, I got her letter. I'm happy she's happy." His words were detached, disinterested.

"OK. Bye, Brendan." She got up to leave, began to walk away before Brendan stopped her.

"Amy, tell him…" he hesitated, unsure how to sum up everything he wanted to say to Steven into a few short words, "Tell him…tell him I'm sorry, ok? And tell him to think of his kids. They come first now."

She nodded at him and turned to leave, Brendan standing and watching her walk away until she disappeared out of the door. He sighed, clenching his fists as he turned to walk away and return to his cell.

How could Steven have been so stupid?

-s-

Ste sat with his back up against the partition wall between the kitchen and the lounge in his flat. Leah and Lucas were sitting at the table to the left of him, playing together peacefully and colouring in pictures of lions and tigers at the zoo. He had them for the morning whilst Amy had gone off, saying she had something important to do. He loved seeing the kids again, but couldn't help the disappointment that had run through him when he realised it meant he couldn't go to see Brendan today. Even if it was to just sit in the waiting room for hours again. He took out his phone, clicked the button at the top to bring up his wallpaper and stared longingly at the picture, rubbing his thumb over Brendan's face.

After a while he tapped onto the menu and went into his text messages. He scrolled down to Brendan's name, tapped on it and swiped his thumb down the screen once. He smiled when the screen stopped rolling, landing at the start of one of their text conversations from a while ago. Brendan didn't text often. He was infuriating, would either ignore a text, call several hours later when he wasn't busy anymore, or just turn up on the doorstep within a few minutes of Ste pressing send. Thumb action obviously wasn't his favourite.

Occasionally, however, when Ste assumed he was stuck at the club until closing time but bored in the office, probably after a few whiskeys, he would turn on the charm offensive via text message.

Ste read the text in front of him now, from New Years Eve this year.

_Nearly time, Steven. You still awake? B_

Ste had replied straight away, as always.

_Yeah i know im borin stayin in wiv the kids but I aint as old as u yet, I can stay awake til midnite no problem ;) xx_

Ste remembered though that he had been sitting on the sofa with the TV on, kids tucked up in bed, watching the countdown for the fireworks on the London Eye, and had been dozing off until Brendan's text had startled him awake.

_I thought you might have been tired, didn't get much sleep last night did you Steven? B_

_Well then u must be pretty knackered urself ;) didn't hear you complainin xx_

Ste had to wait until past midnight for the next reply, he remembered feeling a pang of jealousy at the thought that Brendan was at the club, sharing his first moments of 2013 with other people. That anybody in that club could be eyeing up his man right there and then, distracting him from replying to his text message. The reply came through eventually though,

_Happy New Year, Steven. I missed my kiss at midnight. B_

_Happy new year Bren. Miss u 2 xx_

Ste remembered thinking that was all he would get that night, already more than Brendan usually gave away by text, but he had been woken up over an hour later by his phone buzzing against the table next to his bed. 2.15am. It was him again, three successive messages this time, and by the sounds of it he had welcomed in 2013 with a whole load of whiskey.

_Steven. These past two weeks. Fucking brilliant._

_Best in my life_

_x_

If he hadn't been lying down Ste was sure he would have fallen over. He had lain there; grin spreading across his face, a thrill rushing over his senses. How was he meant to respond to that? And signed off with a kiss, too – that was definitely a first.

_Cant wait to see u 2moro now to get that kiss for real :) xx_

Ste remembered waiting for a reply to come through for ages, feeling himself drift off to sleep until he had heard a loud banging at the front door. He smiled, having an inkling he knew who it was, and dragged himself out of bed. As he opened the door a very drunk Irishman fell through; clearly he had been leaning against the door as he tried to bang it down.

He had leant into Ste without hesitation, holding his head in his hands as their lips met, parting open to allow him inside, desperate and animalistic, pushing him back and hitting the wall with a thud. Ste had responded in the same way, grabbing at the short hairs on the back of Brendan's head whilst pulling his body closer to him with his other hand around his waist.

Ste had kicked the door closed and almost lost his balance, Brendan stumbling with him as he pushed him back down the corridor and into his bedroom.

It had been hurried and passionate, both of them needing to quench that thirst for each others touch that had occupied both their thoughts all night. Afterwards, Brendan had held Ste in his arms, still in his crisp white shirt, buttoned up, but missing his trousers and boxers; Ste naked beside him.

"So I guess you missed me tonight then, Bren?" Ste had asked with a smile on his face as Brendan sat up to take his shirt off. He threw it to the floor and lay back down. "Triple texting me an everything, weren't you."

Brendan had smiled, "Steven, I more than missed you," turning on his side to face Ste, hand under the pillow, Ste responding by mirroring his pose, "I needed you there."

"Is that why someone had a bit more whiskey than usual?" Ste had teased, smiling as he stared into the eyes of this beautiful man.

"Hmm. Maybe," he had smiled at Ste. "Would have been even more if you hadn't distracted me with your text messages."

Ste couldn't help but laugh, knowing he probably looked like a teenager with a crush, but he loved it when this man opened up to him like this. Like sex just unravelled him; like Ste could get him to do anything he wanted whilst he was still in this post coital haze.

"For future reference, I do love it when you get all romantic on your text messages."

Brendan had laughed at that, "Oh, romantic! I though I was just drunk Steven!"

Ste had smiled, looking him straight in the eye as he replied, "I am your boyfriend Brendan. You are allowed to tell me nice things when you text me. And you are most definitely allowed to finish it off with a kiss."

Brendan had stared into his eyes for a few moments before leaning in for a long, lingering kiss. Ste had felt more than a little bit pleased with himself as he rolled over to go to sleep.

Just as he was about to drop off, he had heard his phone buzz again. He picked it up, wondering who would be texting him at this time of night other than Brendan. He read it through bleary eyes.

_I love you, Steven. xxx_

He had spun straight back round to catch the smirk on Brendan's face, one eyebrow raised suggestively at him, and couldn't stop himself from pouncing on top of him and hugging him.

"I love you, too, Brendan," he had sealed it with a kiss before falling asleep in his lover's arms.

As Ste sat there on the floor of his flat, reading that message in front of him now, he felt himself smiling at the memories. He was sure he should feel thankful that they at least had those few months together, that he at least had the hope that that night was the start of a new year that could bring them happiness, and the future they both craved together.

But it had all been snatched away from them.

Leah came over to her dad and looked down at his mobile screen, the wallpaper image of her, her brother and Brendan staring up at her.

"I miss Daddy Brendan," she said, her bottom lip jutting out as she looked up at her dad. "Do you miss Daddy Brendan?"

Ste felt a tear roll down his cheek, hadn't even been aware that his eyes had filled with tears, and he pulled his daughter into him for a hug.

"More than you could ever imagine, Leah."

-s-

Brendan returned to the prison block, feeling the rage grow inside of him about what Amy had just told him. Steven was wasting his life. What was he playing at? He had given him the chance to carry on with his life without him, to not be dragged down by all of his problems, to be free of Brendan and his demons, free of the constant threat of being let down and hurt by the man he loved.

Should he go and see him when the next visiting order arrived? Just to tell him to sort his life out? Urge him to get a grip on things? No, he couldn't. If he saw him, it might drag Steven right back to the start of his healing process. He might be almost over him, almost ready to let go, and to see Brendan would bring him right back to the beginning.

Brendan was the definition of conflicted and he couldn't cope with it any more.

When it came to Steven he only ever wanted what was best for him, and he was never entirely sure whether he was a part of that or not. And now he was locked up, for the next 30 years, he had to push Steven away. But he hated that doing so was destroying Steven's life.

He could feel all his emotions building up inside him, he was beginning to lose his grip on things, beginning to feel the control slipping through his fingers. Brendan had rarely felt this powerless, causing an outpouring of rage as soon as he made his way into his cell.

He grabbed the chest to the side of him and threw it against the wall, drawers falling out and hitting the floor as it flew through the air. He let out a cry of anger and frustration as he picked up the table next, smashing the legs against the floor and throwing the remains of it up against the cell door. He moved onto the bed, grabbing the underside and lifting it up against the wall, kicking the wire base underneath as it rebounded back onto the floor.

He noticed the bundle of white envelopes hit the floor as they escaped from under his pillow, picked them up as he backed up against the wall, surveying the damage he had caused. He screamed out, the sound coming from the pit of his stomach, unsure who he was calling for. He felt his body slide down the wall, his sweatshirt riding up and his skin burning against the concrete wall of his cell as he reached the floor. He sat there, legs bent, resting his elbows on his knees and holding the envelopes tightly to his chest. These were the proof of Steven's love – proof that he wouldn't give up on him, proof that he was sticking true to the promise he made not so long ago.

Karl had heard the commotion coming from Brendan's cell and ran in, found him a broken man cowering in the corner, surrounded by destruction. He was so lost in a world of his own that he didn't even notice Karl walking in, turning the bed over and sitting on it, watching Brendan the whole time.

He sat for what seemed like forever, waiting for Brendan to speak, to explain himself. Waiting for the guards to come rushing in, but they never did. Karl assumed they had either not heard the furore coming from this direction, or they had guessed it was another verbal outburst from the mad Irishman and decided to leave him be.

Brendan looked up at him then, head tilted to one side, face riddled with curiosity.

"What do you think you're doin' here, kid." Brendan had asked. He had meant to sound menacing, but was aware that as the words left his mouth they sounded more like idle chit chat from a defeated man.

"I heard the noise, thought I'd come in and make sure you were alright."

The silence between them felt deafening to Karl, who waited to see if he had overstepped the mark with his concern.

"I don't really think that's of any concern to you now, is it, Karlos?"

Karl swallowed at the cold and heartless way Brendan said his name, slow and menacing, his lip twitching as his words lingered in the air between them.

Karl looked away but stayed seated against his better judgement. He knew there might not be a better time to try to break down the Irishmans' barriers.

"I saw you today, in the visitors room."

Brendan responded with nothing more than a grunt as his gaze returned to the floor between his legs.

"I've never seen you have any visitors since you got here." Karl looked briefly to the stack of envelopes Brendan held tightly. "Something tells me you've got someone who wants to see you though."

Brendan looked up at him now, pressing his lips together and chewing the inside of his gum as he dared Karl to carry on.

"Who was she then?"

Brendan sighed. He thought about not answering, but he had a feeling this lad wasn't going to give up. "I could tell you anything, couldn't I, and you'd have no idea if it was true. So what's the point, huh?"

"She your girlfriend? She wasn't Irish so I'm guessing she's not related?"

"And if I told ye she was the mother of my boyfriends kids, what would you think then?"

He had meant to sound like he was joking, making up some absurd connection between himself and Amy so that Karl would leave him alone; but he knew as soon as the words left him that they had come out with more sincerity than he had hoped, the tick in his cheek giving away the truth behind his words. Karl shot him a knowing glance, a look of realisation, and Brendan knew that his secret was out.

He thought about throwing the lad up against the wall, threatening him to keep his mouth shut, that if he dared speak a word of any of it that he would take any blunt object he could find and slit his throat with it.

But he just didn't have the energy anymore.

They sat there in silence for a little while longer before Karl stood up, walked over to the chest of drawers and picked it up, placing it back against the wall where it had been before Brendan's outburst. He picked each of the drawers up one by one and slotted them back into the chest of drawers. He picked up the table and the three legs which had broken free, slotted each of the legs back into the hole they had come from, and leant the table back up against the wall. Brendan watched his every move out of the corner of his eye, suspicion rising in his veins as to what this young boy could possibly want from him.

Karl looked around the room, satisfied that all was as it would have been before Brendan took offence at his surroundings. He turned to face him before leaving, feeling the need to reassure this broken man that sat before him, such a stark contrast to the menacing powerhouse that had alienated a prison full of terrifying men over the past 3 months.

"I'm not gonna tell any one, Bren. You can trust me."

All of Brendan's good sense told him to put this little runt in his place, to let him know he was a nobody, who did he think he was to come into his cell like this and pry into his life. Calling him _Bren _as if they were old friends.

But deep down, his broken heart, his weary mind, his shattered spirit, was grateful for the kindness he had been shown in his hour of need, and he heard a whisper escape his own lips as the boy turned around to leave.

"Thank you."


	5. Chapter 5

_**Thanks again for your reviews I love reading them, spurs me on to write more! **_

Chapter 5

Ste woke up Monday morning before his alarm, which was unheard of for him, especially recently, and he jumped out of bed with a spring in his step. He was up, showered and dressed by the time he heard Amy's key turn in the door.

"Hiyaaa" he shouted out to her, running out of the bathroom to greet her.

Leah ran up to her dad, closely followed by Lucas after he had wriggled out of his mom's hold. Ste embraced them both tightly, closing his eyes and nuzzling his face in between them, breathing in their scent.

"How's my gorgeous children this morning?"

"I missed you Daddy!" Lucas cried as he held onto his dad's leg, before running off after his sister to play with the few toys they had left behind in the flat.

"Daddy missed you too, so much." He smiled as they played happily together.

Ste ran off back to the bathroom and Amy followed him, watching as he spritzed on his expensive aftershave and styled his hair with such concentration Amy started to laugh at him.

"Trying to impress the judge, are you?" she teased, then picking up on the country drawl that was coming from his laptop she raised her eyebrows, "And what's this crap you're listening to?"

"Erm, this isn't crap Ames, this is Johnny Cash, he's like, one of the best singers, like, of all time or something."

"Yeah, right, sounds like crap to me!" she retorted and tapped the keys on his laptop to bring up his iTunes and change the song.

"Wait, Ames, leave it ye –" he snapped at her but he was too late, she had seen the name of the playlist he was working through and her face had dropped in recognition - 'Ste 3 Brendan'.

"Ste," she stared at him as he did everything to avoid her gaze, "Ste please tell me this isn't what I think it is? Please tell me you're not –"

"Granddad Mike is here!" Leah ran in to interrupt their exchange before it became heated.

Ste looked to Leah, the little girl he loved as his own daughter, then up to Amy in disbelief, "What's Mike doing here?"

Amy relaxed her shoulders, letting go her anger at the assumption she had just made and shuffled forwards towards Ste, held his hands and looked him in the eye with that look on her face; that strained expression she always wore when she knew she had done something Ste wouldn't agree with.

"I just thought it was for the best, you know, if the kids could stay here with my dad whilst you're in court." She paused, waiting for his reaction, "It's not right for the kids to go to court with you, you know, just in case. I wouldn't want them to see you like that, and I'm sure you wouldn't want them to remember you like that either."

Ste chewed on his bottom lip as he thought over what she said, walking back into the kitchen and looking down at his kids playing away without a care in the world.

"Yeah," he conceded, "I suppose you're right Ames."

She leant in and hugged him tightly, "It's gonna be fine Ste, don't worry I'm sure you'll be coming straight home to them in a few hours."

Ste didn't feel so sure though, hence the reason for his better mood this morning.

Amy let him go just as Mike walked through the door.

"Hi, Mike."

"Ste," he nodded back in response, "hope it goes alright for you today."

"Cheers, Mike," they were civil to each other if nothing else, "and thanks for coming over to look after the kids."

"Well, you can't expect them to watch their dad up in the docks now, can you?"

The two men stared each other down. Amy sensed the tension in the room, could cut through it with a knife. It was like two alpha male dogs meeting in the park, staring each other down as the fur of the scruff of their necks stood up, each waiting for the other to initiate the fight. She decided to step in before the mauling commenced.

"Right, I think it's time we went, Ste, we're gonna be late if we don't get a move on."

"Yeah, Ames," Ste replied as he knelt down to face Leah and Lucas. "Now, listen to me kids. You know Daddy loves you very much now, don't you?" He paused as they both looked at him and nodded, "Well Daddy might not be able to see you or talk to you for a while after today, but that doesn't mean I don't love you, ok kids? It doesn't mean I won't be thinking about you every single day, and you can still draw me lots and lots of pictures and mommy can make sure they get sent to me in the post, you understand?"

They both nodded in unison and Ste grabbed them, holding them tightly, aware that it could be months before he got to do this again.

"Come on, Ste. Dad says we can borrow his car so I can drive us to court."

-s-

A few hours later Ste was standing behind the old fashioned wooden bench, facing the judge and awaiting his sentence. He was rolling his eyes as he listened to some stuffy lawyer argue the case as to why Ste should be locked away for good.

"The defendant has shown no remorse for his actions, has not improved his behaviour since the offence took place, and with his history of vehicle theft and violence the prosecution requests that he be issued with a custodial sentence in order for justice to be served."

The judge had nodded at the lawyer then moved his attention onto Jim, who stood and nodded in the judges direction. He really wasn't the type of guy you imagined as a lawyer. He was short and tubby, his slightly receding hairline covered up by the long straggly bits smoothed forwards for this purpose. The rest of his light brown, wispy hair went off in all different directions, presumably a while since it had seen a brush. He looked as if his suit had been donated by his local Oxfam; it was ill fitting and in dire need of a dry clean; and the soles of his shoes were starting to tear away at the edges.

But Jim was good at his job nonetheless – he would have had to be to have got the McQueens let off from that massive fight at The Dog a few months back. Ste could hear him now, trying to defend his recent actions.

"I would respectfully ask the court to consider that, although my client has previous convictions for vehicle theft and violence, these are very much a part of his past, and since that time my client has turned his life around and is now part owner of a successful delicatessen in Hollyoaks village. He is also father to two small children and the events of the night in question are very much out of character. My client has been struggling with the grief at the loss of his partner recently and this may have been the cause of the relapse, however he has agreed to attend counselling sessions in order to deal with this grief and move on with his life as a law-abiding citizen. For these reasons I would argue that a custodial would not be suitable to Mr Hay and ask that you look favourably on him in this case."

Not much of this made sense to Ste, and he still didn't get why everything had to be said in such a weird way in court – its not like Jim talks like that in normal life. There was only one thing Ste was desperate to know – was he going to prison or not?

The judge had spent very little time deliberating his decision, and delivered his recommended sentencing within minutes of the lawyers making their speeches.

"Having taken account of both your arguments I see fit that Mr Hay be sentenced to 6 months imprisonment for the crimes he has committed. However, this sentence is to be suspended on the provision that Mr Hay does not re-offend within the next 12 months, including any minor offences involving violence or theft in any way. Mr Hay is also to attend at least three counselling sessions between now and the end of this month in order to help him deal with the loss of his partner. Court dismissed." The judge banged his hammer down on the bench and every one stood up, papers shuffling, their thoughts already moving on to their next case.

Ste tried to hide the smile on his face as he looked over to Jim, but was confused to see Jim looking pleased with himself too. He hadn't really understood what the judge had been saying, had only heard the terms '6 months imprisonment', which was what he had been hoping to hear. Not that he especially wanted to go to prison – he knew it would be rough for him; remembered from his time in Young Offenders how awful it was on the inside; but he also knew who would be inside when he got there.

But why would Jim be so happy about Ste going to prison for 6 months? Why did he want him out of the way? And why were the court officers opening up the gate to the dock and letting Ste walk through them, no handcuffs, letting him go free into the open court? Shouldn't they be cuffing him and taking him down?

He walked over to Jim, looking around him in confusion, eyes wide open and eyebrows furrowed together.

"I…I don't get it Jim," he muttered, "So when do I go to prison?"

"You don't Ste!" Jim beamed back at him. "Didn't you hear the judge?"

"Yeah…yeah he said 6 months imprisonment."

"Yes, Ste, he did." Jim rolled his eyes, "before saying that was suspended for 12 months."

"Well…I don't get it…I don't get what that means, Jim." Ste was panicking now, could feel himself getting breathless.

"It means you don't go to prison, basically!" Jim seemed pleased with himself, "As long as you behave yourself for the next 12 months, don't steal any more cars, don't hit anyone, and go to the counselling so they can sort out what's going on in you head and stop you moping around after your Irish bad boy of yours, then you don't go to prison."

Jim watched Ste as the realisation set in, he was looking all around the room with the same shell shocked expression he had had for the past few minutes. Jim raised his eyebrows and turned up the corners of his mouth in a self satisfied smile.

"This is the part where you thank me, if I remember rightly Ste," he stood for a few seconds waiting for his thanks but realised Ste was still processing what had just happened, "Or not, then. Whatever. See you later, Ste."

Jim had begun to walk away when he heard Ste running after him.

"No, wait!" Ste shouted as he caught up with him, grabbing his elbow to pull him back. "So, basically, what they said is I don't go to prison now, but, like, if I did something, like if I stole another car, or hit someone, or something, then I would have to go to prison then?"

Jim sighed heavily, "Yes, there he is! He's finally got it! Welcome to 10 minutes ago, Ste."

Jim's sarcasm was completely lost on him though, Ste rushing past him and heading straight out of the courthouse, just as Amy approached him on her way down from the public gallery.

"Where's Ste going?"

"No idea Amy," Jim replied, "He's an odd one, really, isn't he?"

Amy feared the worst as realisation set in, and she ran out after Ste, just in time to catch him smashing the window of a very expensive looking car on the car park. The car alarm started whirring away loudly, grabbing the attention of passers by. It all happened quickly, Ste was frantic now in his actions, jumping into the car and leaning down to fiddle with the wiring under the steering wheel. Amy heard the engine roar into life as two court officers ran past her. Ste reversed the car in record speed but the officers were there now, one of them standing in front of it to stop him driving away. Ste revved the accelerator as a warning but the officer wasn't fazed, placed his hands against the bonnet of the car and spoke slowly and clearly at Ste.

"Step out of the car, kid. There's no way you're getting out of this one, just turn the engine off and step out of the car."

Ste had thought about it but he wasn't going to give up that easily – he had to make sure he made his point. He edged forward slowly, only a foot or two, and saw three more police officers approaching through his wing mirror. He looked into the eyes of the police officer stood before him, and smiled up at him. He hit his foot onto the accelerator and pulled his other off the clutch, then quickly hit the brake. The car had lurched forward a few metres, enough to knock the police officer to the floor, but not enough to actually cause him any harm. Just as Ste had planned.

"STE!" He heard Amy shouting from the entrance to the courthouse, before the door of the car was pulled open and he was dragged out by the police officers, his hands cuffed together behind his back as one officer pushed him up against the car, holding his head down to one side against the roof.

He smirked as they read him his rights, looking more like a crazed delinquent pyscho than ever before as he listened to them recite the various offences he had just stacked up in the space of a few minutes.

As they marched him back inside the courthouse and towards the holding cells, Ste kept his gaze firmly on the ground, avoiding the look on Amy's face as they passed her. He knew she would be beyond furious, and he couldn't face the disappointment and hatred that would no doubt be written all over her face.

He could hear her words though, screaming at him as he was marched towards her, past her, and still as he was walking away from her into the courthouse.

"This is all about him, isn't it Ste!" she was screaming, "You need to sort your head out! He has never been worthy of you and now you are giving up your whole life for him! I knew it this morning, Ste, I could see it written all over your face! Ste! What about the kids, eh, Ste?! STE!"

Her words echoed down the hallway behind Ste and he was marched away.

-s-

Jim stood next to Ste in the courts holding cell, turning to the guards as they locked the gate behind him.

"Five minutes." The guard ordered, and Jim nodded at him in understanding.

Ste knew what he wanted, knew he could never understand why he had done what he had just done. Knew his first question was going to be Why?

Jim sighed and sat down next to Ste on the cold steel bench, leaning his back against the hard white bars of the cage they had been trapped in. Ste was sat with his legs apart, his hands leaning against his knees and his head dropped forward, gaze fixed firmly on the floor.

"I know you must be pissed off with me."

Jim seemed a little surprised at Ste's incredibly accurate skills of perception.

"Well, I can honestly say it's the first time that's ever happened." Jim replied, "The crime usually comes _before _the court appearance, not directly afterwards."

Ste shook his head but smiled at the same time – he liked Jim. He didn't seem to judge, just accepted that people do all sorts of things for all different reasons, and he was just there to try and help them pick up the pieces afterwards. He pulled his head up and turned to look Jim in the eye.

"Have you ever loved somebody? Like truly, madly been in love with somebody that it proper hurts when you're away from 'em? Like you would turn your whole world upside down just to have one more second with 'em? Like when you think of 'em, everything else just turns to grey and all you can see is that person."

Jim looked at him and realised in that moment that no, he had never experienced that kind of love before. He wondered how many people could really admit to ever having experienced love like that – so desperate that it consumed you completely.

"I know I've let me kids down. I know Amy might never forgive me for this. But I just can't see anything when I'm not with him. I can't go on anymore, Jim. I feel like I don't exist in this world if I don't have his love, and I feel like he's slipping away from me. I need him, more than I need anything else. My kids, my freedom – it's nothing if I don't have him there."

Jim let Ste's words sink in – what he was saying, Jim couldn't associate with, couldn't remember a time in his life when he had felt that desperate; yet he understood him, somehow. He understood that Ste was broken, and he needed Brendan in order to fix himself.

"So, you actually _wanted _to go to prison?" Jim asked, piecing together Ste's state of mind. "To see Brendan?"

Ste nodded in response, embarrassed by how ridiculous that must have sounded.

"You do realise the chances of you actually being placed in the same prison as him are very slim? And the same wing of the same prison - even slimmer. Given your backgrounds; given the different nature of your crimes; given your history – it really is a very slim chance, you know."

Ste looked up at him now, fear in his eyes, Jim realising that this is something Ste hadn't even considered.

"And the bad news is, Ste, I'm afraid there isn't going to be much that I can do about it this time. After your display just now, it's safe to say you will be sentenced again in a week or so and this time, you will be going to prison. I'm sorry, mate."

Ste threw his head into his hands, tears beginning to flow as he felt Jim pat him awkwardly on his back. He clearly felt uncomfortable and didn't know how to handle a slightly unhinged man crying in front of him.

"I just wanna see him." Ste sobbed as Jim sat beside him. "He won't let me see him. All I wanna do is look at him, find out if he's ok. I…I'd do anything," he was sobbing uncontrollably now, catching his breath after every few words, "anything, just…just to see him…its not fair," he rubbed his eyes with the sleeves of his shirt, "It's not…fair…not…fair…on me…"

The prison guard returned, telling Jim with one look that it was time for him to leave Ste alone.

He placed his hand reassuringly on Ste's shoulder, squeezing it slightly. There was something about Ste, some vulnerable quality, something in the way he just opened up completely and wore his heart on his sleeve. He had no fear, no barriers, he just behaved exactly as he saw fit. Jim couldn't help himself, he wanted to do something to ease his suffering, to mend his broken heart even just a little bit. He leant in and whispered in his ear, offering him a little glimmer of hope.

"Don't worry, Ste. I've got an idea."

-s-

It had been over a week since Brendan's outburst and he was beginning to regret that Karl had seen him in that state; that he had opened up to him as much as he did. Ever since, he had seen Karl looking at him all time, smiling at him as if they were friends, as if they shared some kind of special bond. Brendan was waiting for the right time to pounce on him, to corner him in his cell and make it clear to him that he was nothing more than some council rat in a tracksuit.

The opportunity had not yet presented itself, however, so Brendan had resorted to sneering back at him whenever he looked his way, hoping the venom in his eyes would keep Karl away from him and keep his mouth shut at the same time.

He had spent the last few days in his cell, thinking about Steven. He prayed to God that the boy wasn't doing anything stupid, that he had learnt his lesson and that he was concentrating on looking after his kids and keeping the deli going. His instincts and the knot in the pit of his stomach were telling him otherwise however, as if he could sense something wasn't quite right. He sometimes felt as if him and Steven had this connection, that he could feel pain if Steven felt pain, that they were linked by more than just their physical presence. The depth of his love for this boy scared him beyond belief.

He had been relieved that over the past week, since Amy's visit and Steven's court appearance on Monday, he had received three visiting orders from Steven. He hadn't seen him, of course, but the fact that he was still able to come left Brendan to assume that he hadn't been given any prison time. When he had been handed the envelope on Wednesday, the first once since Steven's court date, Brendan had looked up to the heavens and thanked God at the sight of Steven's name – he had prayed for him to be kept safe, and God had answered.

As he was stood smiling at the thought, his cell door opened and he saw Jim standing there with one of the guards. Brendan was all suited up in his beige Italian designer suit and dark navy blue shirt, top button open in his usual style. He looked at himself in the mirror, his reflection staring back at a man he hardly recognised anymore. He had styled his hair for the first time in months, and had thought about bringing the 'tache back before the idea made him feel uneasy, the reason for which Brendan couldn't quite put his finger on. He had tidied up his beard somewhat, though, feeling the need to make some sort of effort for his day in court.

"You ready?" Jim asked.

The question had seemed so much heavier to Brendan than what Jim had intended.

"Ready for nothing." Brendan responded, deadpan.

"Oh, I don't know, Brendan. I might have found you a secret weapon."

Brendan walked out of his cell and stopped to let the guard cuff him behind his back. They all three started to walk down the corridor and down the stairs.

"I don't even know why we bothered with an appeal, Jim."

"Well, I always think you've got nothing to lose by trying, yeah." He looked to Brendan for agreement but received none, "Plus, we can bring up the diminished responsibility defence, maybe we can put together a stronger argument this time around."

"But I already told everyone I did it, Jim."

They had reached the exit now and doors were buzzing all around them as they went through one set of doors, then another set, then a third set, until they were in the courtyard and ushered into the back of the large white prison van, blacked out windows like you would see on the 10 o'clock news.

"Yes, well, that's the point of diminished responsibility – you can say that you did it, but that your reasons for doing it were, not so much justified, but that there were reasons which some might say excused what you did. Or at least made it seem not as bad as it had done originally. So, you did kill them but, say, it was out of self defence or something, so it's not as cold hearted as it first appeared."

Brendan listened to Jim waffle on during the short trip from the prison to the court house, explaining some form of complicated legal defence that he was going to use to try to persuade the judge at his appeal that his sentence should at least be drastically reduced if nothing else. He wasn't paying much attention and was relieved when the van finally stopped and they had reached their destination.

Inside the court Brendan was brought in from the cells and ushered behind the glass partition, standing for the arrival of the judge and speaking only to confirm his name and address. He looked down the whole time, whilst the prosecution and defence made their opening speeches to the judge. He daren't look up at the faces in the court house, couldn't bear to see the judgement in their eyes. People who didn't know him, had never met him before, sitting in the public gallery as if they were here to watch some kind of performance. As if this was some sort of soap opera, not his life.

His mind drifted off to happier thoughts, doing all he could to block out the boredom that was setting in from the stuffy court hearing. He thought about the times he and Steven had worked together in Chez Chez, especially towards the beginning, and when the club had taken over the running of the SU Bar for a short while too. He thought about the times he and Steven had flirted with each other, him teasing Steven about his lack of muscles, both of them desperate to rip each others clothes off. He was sure they may well have done exactly that had Cheryl not been sitting there working away.

His attention was drawn back to the courtroom all too quickly, hearing Jim utter the words that sent Brendan into a complete state of panic. This must have been the secret weapon he had been talking about earlier on.

"Your honour, the defence would like to call a new witness in relation to the accused's claim of diminished responsibility for his crimes." Jim had looked up at Brendan at this point, predicting his reaction was going to be anything but positive.

"The defence calls Steven Hay."


	6. Chapter 6

_**Wow, thank you so much for your reviews they really do mean so much! Glad you are enjoying it :)**_

Chapter 6

Brendan looked up for the first time now since entering the court room. He saw the boy walking towards the dock, looking back at him, face full of apprehension and, what was that, fear? He was in that suit, the one he had worn when they had met up to discuss business in that hotel in Chester and Brendan had planned to seduce him. Of course he was wearing that suit, Brendan thought, that's the only one he owns.

Brendan stared back into Ste's eyes and for a moment, a short, glorious moment, he felt the whole world around him disappear, leaving just him and Steven staring into each others eyes. So much was said between them in those few seconds; so much love still between the two of them. It never failed to amaze Brendan how much he could love one person, how strong his feelings could be.

He hadn't seen him in over 3 months now, the memory of his desperation in that hospital room haunting his memories every night. The way he had opened up to him completely that day, no more games, no more sassy comebacks, just him expressing his love, pleading with Brendan not to leave him. It had killed him inside to watch the police officer grabbing his Steven like that, dragging him away with that expression of pure pain on his face, screaming out his love for Brendan for the whole world to hear.

He looked at him now and he was reminded just how much he loves this boy. His whole body seems to spark back into life, emotions he had kept suppressed night after night re-igniting inside him as the hairs on his forearms and the back of his neck stood on end. The adrenalin flooded through him and his hands started to shake. He had never felt this rush of such strong emotions ever before in his life, and knew it was all down to the beauty and perfection of his doe-eyed lover stood before him.

But then the panic started to set in, what the hell was he doing here? This man who knew everything, knew his deepest, darkest secrets, knew the answers to everything that could make his 30 year stretch disappear, whatever the consequences to himself, or Cheryl. He knew Steven was desperate, only because he was too, but he had the self control that Steven had never had. He couldn't let him destroy everything – it had gone too far now. If Steven told them everything, all it would achieve would be to incriminate himself and Cheryl.

Instinct took over; he stood up and banged his fists against the glass partition as Ste reached the witness stand.

"NO!" Brendan begged, "Don't do this Steven, please!"

But Ste was stubborn, always had been. He broke his eye contact with Brendan then to turn to Jim, ready to answer his questions.

"STEVEN!" Brendan pleaded, his words coming from the bottom of his heart, "Steven, don't, please, don't –"

"Order!" He was cut off by the judges' hammer banging down on his bench and the hands of the officers behind him grabbing his shoulders, pulling him down and whispering into his ear.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll sit down and shut up, Brady."

Brendan clenched his fists in frustration but knew he was doing himself no favours by causing such a fracas. He might not have been exactly co-operative at his initial trial, in fact he had barely spoken two words in his own defence, but he sure as hell didn't want to shoot himself in the foot and end up with another 2 years being added onto his sentence for contempt of court.

When the tension in the room had settled somewhat, Jim turned his attention from Brendan to Ste.

"Steven –" Jim started.

"It's Ste."

Jim was surprised at the venom behind Ste's retort, as if calling him by his full name was the worst thing he could do to him, even though he was sure Brendan had repeatedly cried out his full name only seconds ago. "Ok, erm, Ste, My Hay, for the benefit of the court, could you state the nature of your relationship to the defendant."

"I'm Brendan's partner. We're in a relationship."

Ste's use of the present tense wasn't lost on Brendan, nor was the sight in the corner of his eye of the judge shifting uncomfortably in his chair, or the murmurs coming from the public gallery. Clearly a few people hadn't seen that coming.

"And for how long have you known Mr Brady."

"I've known him about three years, me."

"And have you been together for three years?"

"Erm. No, not for the whole three years. I suppose you'd say its been on and off."

"Ok," Jim continued, "It seemed as if Mr Brady wasn't too pleased to see you here, can you explain to the court why that might be?"

"Well, it's 'cause I know 'im, don't I," Ste looked across at Brendan now for the first time since he reached the docks, saw the apprehension in his eyes. "I know why he did all them things. He ain't got any secrets from me, you see."

"Ok," Jim replied, "so you feel you could advise the court further on the events surrounding the crimes for which Mr Brady has been found guilty?"

"Yeah" Ste responded truthfully.

Jim looked to the judge at this point, "Your honour, you will no doubt be aware that Mr Brady was far from co-operative at his initial trial and is yet to provide any further information to the police or to the court following his confession on the night he was arrested. The defence is hoping to prove that there were mitigating circumstances in each case, and that Mr Brady was forced into committing these crimes in order to protect his own life, and the lives of the people he loves, notably his sister, Cheryl Brady, and the witness here, Mr Hay. I would therefore ask that you consider the words of Mr Hay in this respect."

The judge nodded his approval down at Jim, who turned to Ste looking pleased with himself. He had high hopes that what Ste was about to tell the court would help to at least reduce Brendan's sentence, if not clear him for the responsibility of the crimes completely.

Brendan had been found guilty of three out of the five murders he confessed to that fateful night back in March - Danny Houston, Simon Walker, and Seamus Brady. The police had never discovered Michael Cornish's body, and as Brendan provided little to no assistance during his interview under caution, they decided against charging him - they already had him on a triple murder charge anyway. They dropped the charges relating to Florence Brady's murder for similar reasons, as well as the fact that she had been buried in the family plot back in Ireland, and Brendan's sister Cheryl had assured the police that she died of natural causes - she had been suffering with cancer. She had managed to convince them that Brendan must have confessed as he felt he should have done more to help her, and that he felt responsible for her death for that reason, and not because he actually killed her.

So Brendan stood trial for the three murders, pleaded guilty to all three and had been sentenced to thirty years. Jim had convinced him to appeal his conviction, hoping that if he could get Brendan to talk, he could overturn the sentence, but Brendan had always refused to talk, so Jim had been left to explore other options – step forward Steven Hay.

"So, Ste," Jim started, "I'll start with Danny Houston. How well did you know Danny?"

Ste looked across at Brendan and saw him flinch, knew that this would be making him extremely uncomfortable, to know that Ste was here in court, risking incriminating himself by confessing to knowing about the murders. Brendan couldn't watch, fixed his eyes to the ground and listened intently, ready to jump in and stop Ste at any moment when he went too far.

"Well, he part owned the club so I knew 'im as me boss from there, and I knew he were bad news," Ste threw a look in Brendan's direction, found him staring intently at the floor, hiding his face from Stevens view.

"And what did you know of his relationship with Mr Brady?" Jim continued.

"Erm…They'd known each other a while, I guess. Used to run a club together in Liverpool years ago. There was a lad that worked with 'em there," Ste looked down at his hands, uncomfortable about the story he was about to tell. "Vinnie, his name was. Him and Brendan...they..." he looked over a Brendan at this point, desperate for him to give him some sort of reassurance, that he was doing the right thing, that he wasn't mad at him for pulling this stunt. All he had really wanted was to see him again, to have a new memory of his face, to know the spark was still there. He looked back to Jim, "they was together, right, and Danny killed him, he killed Vinnie. And he told Brendan about it at the same time as he threatened to hurt me. So Bren, he was protecting me, right. And he knew Danny weren't bluffing either because he'd done it before."

Ste looked across to Brendan again, was just left facing the top of Brendan's head as his eyes stayed rooted to the floor.

Jim asked a few further questions about the specifics of Danny's murder but Ste couldn't answer them - all he could do was tell the court why Brendan did what he did. Jim had warned him not to give any details regarding when he had found out about the murders, knowing he was at risk of a charge of accessory to murder or withholding information from the police, so Ste divulged as little as possible.

Jim moved on then to Walker, and Ste was all too happy to give the court the full low-down, hardly stopping for breath.

"It might sound bad, right, that he killed a copper, but it weren't like that at all - Walker wasn't even working for the police anymore. He was out to get Bren and the cops were looking to arrest him anyway. The day before, he had locked me and Chez in a van and held Bren and his dad hostage at their flat with a gun. It was Walker who shot and killed Riley Costello, the footballer, and he's been on the run from the police since then. He had a gun pointed to me that day as well, wanted to kill me but Bren -" he stopped as he looked across again, this time seeing Brendan's shoulders had tensed up and he was squeezing his eyes, as if the memory of what Ste was talking about was physically hurting him. "Bren stepped in front of the gun, didn't he, to stop him. He did that for me, would have taken a bullet to protect my life. That's what makes Brendan Brady a good man."

Jim asked a few further questions about the events of the kidnapping, about Kevin's accusations, about the reason why Walker was targeting Brendan. Ste claimed he didn't know why, thinking it wise not to divulge to the court about Brendan's drug dealing past.

Ste was feeling exhausted already, felt as if he had been in the dock, under scrutiny, for hours now. He was feeling the pressure of all the eyes on the room that were fixed on him, every body hanging off his every word. He knew it was about to get worse though, knew the next question Jim was going to ask, braced himself for it by looking over at Brendan, as if he could get the strength from him to carry on.

"That brings us to the final question," Jim asked slowly, "Mr Brady was convicted for the murder of his father, Seamus Brady, on the night of his arrest. Are you aware of the events of that night, Mr Hay?"

At the mention if Seamus' name, Brendan had snapped, looking up into Ste's eyes, pleading with him silently to leave this one alone. He hadn't really had a problem with the world knowing that he killed Danny and Walker in order to protect Steven and Cheryl - he had nothing to hide there. But his dad? That was a different matter. He couldn't let the world find out about what happened. He couldn't live with himself if that became public knowledge, and didn't know if he could forgive even Steven if he told anyone about it.

Ste saw the look in his lovers' eyes - not threatening, not judgmental, just fear. He was scared about the world knowing his secret, even if it would have helped clear him for murder. Ste had never seen fear in Brendan's eyes before, and he felt immediately unsure, uneasy about letting the rest of the world in on the secret. Maybe he had gone too far already? Maybe what he had told the court by now would be enough? Maybe he could just leave it there?

"Erm, Seamus Brady..." Ste started, unsure where to take this now as he saw the desperation in Brendan's eyes. "Seamus was a bad man. He...he hurt people." Ste could feel his eyes filling as he threw his head back, closing his eyes to keep the tears inside. "He hurt Brendan."

He heard it then, the groan coming from behind the glass partition, Brendan's warning that he had gone too far now, he had said too much.

Ste tried to carry on despite it, "He hurt Brendan," he swallowed and whispered quietly, "and Cheryl found out -"

He was stopped abruptly by Brendan, banging against the glass partition with his fists and shouting, begging him to stop.

"NO! Steven, do NOT do this! Steven! No!"

His words repeated again and again as he banged his fists over and over, the pseudo calm of the court replaced with his furious ranting from the docks. Ste was sure he was about to smash through the thin sheet of glass at any second, such was the ferocity and urgency of his attempt to stop him. The court room was manic now, officers rushing to get to Brendan to restrain him, the judge repeatedly banging his hammer against the bench and calling the court to order, the public gallery excited by the drama as they talked animatedly amongst themselves.

Ste looked around the court, a mixture of confusion and relief as he realised his time on the witness stand was up. He could hear the judge calling for the court to be adjourned as Brendan was dragged back down to the docks, almost kicking and screaming as he disappeared from view.

-s-

Ste sat around with Jim outside the court room, waiting for news on what would happen next.

"How did I do?" Ste asked nervously, desperate to know if Jim thought he had helped Brendan's appeal.

"Well, we got our point across, you did great Ste. Same can't be said for your boyfriend unfortunately." Jim sighed, "He doesn't do himself any favours, does he?"

Ste laughed at this, such an accurate description of his Brendan by someone who knew relatively nothing about him, "Tell me about it!"

They laughed lightly to each other before Jim continued, "We managed to give some sort of background for the crimes at least, which the court didn't have before because Brendan wouldn't talk, wouldn't tell us anything. And what you've told the judge today proves he was acting to protect you and Cheryl. It just depends if the judge believes you."

Ste liked how blunt Jim was at times - straight to the point, oblivious as to whether he was offending anyone, just pure and simple honesty. He trusted him.

"We could have done with you at the first trial, Ste, I reckon you could have made a difference then."

Ste's head dropped, thinking about his state of mind whilst he knew Brendan was in court with his first trial. At the time, Jim had come into the Deli to ask for Ste's help, saying that Brendan was refusing to give any information to put his actions into context, that if he couldn't get some sort of a defence together then it would be a foregone conclusion, Brendan would be going down for life. Ste had spent the two weeks prior to that on a bitter downward spiral, ever since the night he had been arrested. That day he had a stinking headache, whiskey addling with his brain and making him act irrationally, making him angrier than he had ever been. He was in his denial phase, he was so angry, hated Brendan for doing what he had done. He didn't understand how he could have sacrificed himself like that, how he could have put himself in that situation where a sniper had pulled a trigger on him, almost ended his life. He thought Brendan must not have known how much he loved him. If he had truly known that, how could he have ever done something like that to someone who loved him as much as Ste did?

As soon as Brendan's fate had been decided in court, word had spread around the village and Ste had felt all his anger fall away, replaced with gut-wrenching guilt. He could have helped him, the man he loved, could have provided him with a defence to help clear his name. He couldn't forgive himself for leaving him alone in his hour of need, and wanted nothing more than to turn the clock back and be right there, at his side, fighting his corner, making sure Brendan knew he was there for him, that he wasn't giving up on him. He was sure this was part of the reason he visited him as soon as he was allowed to have visitors, and that he went back there every day – he needed Brendan to know that he was there, that he still loved him, that he was sorry.

He had continued on his downward spiral, drinking whiskey for breakfast and pushing away anybody who tried to offer him advice or support. But he didn't drink anymore because he was angry and in pain, he drank to numb the sadness, to conceal his guilt about leaving Brendan in his hour of need.

So he had jumped at the chance to make up for his desertion by speaking at Brendan's appeal when Jim had asked him to.

Ste was aware now of one of the court officers getting Jim's attention, calling him over to talk to them. He wondered if this meant the judge had made his decision, watching Jim as he spoke to them in hushed tones, looking across at Ste as they spoke.

Jim walked back over looking pleased with himself, filling Ste with hope.

"Have they made a decision?" Ste asked anxiously.

"Well," Jim responded, "There's no word from the judge as yet, it'll be a while yet for that I think. But that's not the only reason I brought you here today, and it looks as if my plan worked."

Ste was confused, what was Jim's plan?

"It's Brendan," Jim answered in response to Ste's silent question, "He wants to see you."


	7. Chapter 7

**_Thank you all again for your reviews/follows! Makes me feel all warm inside when I see your comments!_**

Chapter 7

Ste was guided down the cold, white-washed corridors towards the room where Brendan was being held, moving slowly and feeling unsure as to what state he would find Brendan in when he got there. He knew he had pissed him off, knew he might have taken it too far, but he remembered Brendan's words from a few months ago – that there was nothing Steven could do to make him stop loving him, and he clung onto that thought desperately, as he had done for the past 3 months.

He smiled to himself thinking about how much of a revelation that had been to him at the time, after everything they had gone through to get to that point. Their relationship, their connection, everything they had shared – it was flawed. All of it had been flawed, right from the start. Ste had been a victim to begin with, he had physically suffered at the hands of Brendan in the same way that he had made Amy suffer all those years before, and there was no excuse for that. Not even what Seamus had done to Brendan could excuse him for how he had hurt Ste at the beginning.

Their love was driven by something deeper than physical attraction and the need for warmth and comfort; it was obsessive at its core. It was an all encompassing passion and need; it was about possession and dominance, control over each other, and the lack of control they both felt to keep away from each other. There was nothing at all in this world, no amount of self-loathing, self-preservation or self-sacrifice that could keep these two away from each other.

But as flawed as their love was; it was love nonetheless. Love that had overcome the pain and the angst; had overcome each of their shortcomings and pulled them back from the abyss. Their love had saved them both, had helped them face their demons, and brought them both to happiness.

Ste understood, deep down, what had driven Brendan to hurt him that way in the beginning – he had been there himself years before. He saw that Brendan was fighting it, battling against his demons, and he was winning now, for the most part. He had wanted to help Brendan through it in the same way that Amy had helped him; and Brendan _had_ changed, irrevocably, throughout their relationship. He wasn't exactly proud, but he was out now; he could bake bread with his gay lover and he was OK with it. He didn't even flinch at the idea of marriage, much to Ste's surprise.

He smiled to himself as he thought about it now, about what their wedding would be like. Nothing extravagant - not like he had with Doug. That had been all style and no substance - it looked the part but at the end of it all, there had been nothing more than friendship between the two of them. It couldn't compete with the life altering love affair he had with Brendan. No, their wedding would be quiet, understated. Private. It would be just them, maybe a couple of witnesses – Cheryl, Amy, both their kids. Maybe even that would feel too exposed. Maybe they could elope to somewhere secluded and romantic, finding a couple of strangers to act as witnesses. Maybe it should be just the two of them there, making the most important of promises to each other.

It seemed appropriate that only they should be able to celebrate their love. After all, it was only the two of them who could truly understand it.

Ste's thoughts were pulled back to the real world by the sound of one of the guards opening the heavy steel door to the room where Brendan was sat waiting. He slinked inside slowly and cautiously as he waited to face Brendan's wrath.

He looked at him, sat there in his beige tailored suit and dark blue shirt, a wave rushing through his body as he appreciated how damn attractive he looked. He had always loved him in an expensive suit, just how he knew Brendan had always loved him in the chavviest of tracksuits. It had been so long since he had seen him, since he had properly been able to look at him, that he felt himself staring now, memorising every part of him as if he might never see him again. The first thing he noticed was the lack of 'tache, that it had been replaced by a short, thick, dark beard. He decided straight away that he quite liked this look on him, it made him look rugged and handsome, imagined how hot he would look with this beard and a pair of aviator shades, felt his face start to flush at the though of it.

His sharp appearance looked out of place here, though. Ste looked down to the table to see both his hands cuffed, attached to the table with chains as if he was some sort of axe murderer, a danger to himself, not able to be trusted even in a small concrete room by himself. He looked like a caged animal, making Ste wonder exactly how he had been behaving on the inside, to make the officers so scared of him. The thought crossed his mind that maybe he had lost it on the inside, maybe it had all been too much for him and he had snapped, and the man he loved wasn't there anymore. Ste knew how much he hated prison after all.

Brendan raised an eyebrow and looked up at Ste, must have looked like a nervous schoolboy waiting for detention, and it killed him slightly to know that the boy was still just as scared of him as always. He felt the need to calm his nerves, to reassure him and let him know that he still loved him, underneath it all. He was still his Brendan, the one he knew and loved.

"Come here," Brendan invited, a softness to his voice that Ste was not expecting.

Ste was hesitant, kept eye contact with Brendan as he walked towards him cautiously, stopping as he stood next to his chair, his thigh brushing against Brendan's arm as it rested on the table.

He looked down and admired the man he loved, still feeling the need to pinch himself that someone this gorgeous, this brave, this _manly_, could love him in the way that he did. But he still felt unsure, knowing his fear must be written all over his face. He never had been able to hide his emotions from this man.

Brendan smiled at him now, that mischievous glint back in his eye as he repeated himself to make known his real intentions, "I said, come here."

Ste smiled, understanding his meaning now and feeling relief that his Brendan was still there, alive and well and sane (or insane) as ever. He leant down slowly towards Brendan, stopping just above his lips to make sure Brendan was the one to close the gap between them, lifting himself into the kiss, their lips touching for the first time in months. The fire re-ignited inside both of them as they devoured each other, gently at first and then hungrily by the second kiss, desperate to have each other once again. Ste placed his hands either side of Brendan's face, could feel him pulling up against his handcuffs to try to do the same, settling for his fingers digging into Ste's elbows, having any kind of hold over him that he could manage.

Ste felt his knees buckle beneath him, couldn't handle the intensity of this reunion, couldn't control himself and felt his legs give way as he dropped back against the table.

Brendan pulled away from him then, looked up into Ste's eyes as he ran his tongue over his lips, tasting Steven on them still and savouring every last drop. Ste's hands stayed fixed on Brendan's face as he trailed his thumb across Brendan's lip. He let Brendan plant a trail of kisses along his thumb and palm, looking up at him as he did so, reminding Ste of that look he would always give him across the crowded club when he knew he was in for a good time that night.

"Sit down, Steven," he ordered, calmly.

Ste took his hands from Brendan's face and reluctantly did as he was told, taking a chair from the side of the table and bringing it round so that it was next to Brendan, wanting to make the most of being close to him for as long as he could. They sat in silence for a few moments, both having so much to say to each other but knowing none of it really needed to be said.

Brendan hadn't planned on giving in to Steven so easily, was still hurt that he almost told the world his secret, after he had entrusted it into his care. He needed to know if he could have betrayed him like that, didn't want to believe that he would have ever done that.

"Would you have done it?" Brendan asked, out of the blue.

Ste frowned, confused as to what Brendan could have been talking about. The kiss had thrown him off course, he had momentarily lost all memory of what he was doing here and what had just happened in the court room.

"Would you have told them?" Brendan asked again.

Ste's head dropped as he got the gist of what Brendan was asking him, feeling exposed now as he had nothing to hide behind. It was just him and Brendan now, he had to tell him what was running through his mind.

"I…I don't know, Bren," Ste saw Brendan's face fall as he spoke, saw the fear and disappointment in his eyes and hated that he was behind that. "I thought that I would, yeah, maybe. I thought I would have told them anything to help get you out of here. I can't stand it every day out there without you, Bren. It's like my whole life has just stopped, been on hold since that night, and I can't handle it. I want you out of here, I want you back home with me." He paused as he thought about what had made him stop, what had made him keep the secret hidden. "But…but then I saw that look in your eyes…like that one you're giving me now. Not like you were angry at me for it but just like you were begging me not to, and I knew that I couldn't do it. I couldn't do it to you like that, Bren. No matter how much I want you back home, I couldn't tell them."

They sat in silence for a few moments, Brendan understanding now that Ste had been doing this all out of his own desperation, that he just needed to get back to him. This separation they had endured had almost broken him, so god knows what it must have done to Steven. He knew he could forgive him for this – he was sure he already had done, and they had so much more ground to cover in the short time they had.

It was Ste who eventually broke the silence.

"Why did you shut me out?" His voice was weak, desperate, riddled with emotion.

Brendan sighed heavily as he considered his response.

"I…I didn't mean to shut you out, Steven," he replied, "I just…I couldn't see you."

"Why not?" Ste pleaded, feeling like a lovesick teenager.

"I just…I don't know Steven. I needed to let you move on with yer life," and he meant it, "You can't waste any more time on me."

Ste's face went from understanding to furious in a split second, raising his voice in frustration as he tried for the hundredth time to make Brendan see inside his heart. "That's not your decision though, is it, Brendan? How do you expect me to move on from you? Really? I thought we had sorted all this, I thought you knew how I felt about you. You're everything to me! I can't -"

"No, Steven, I'm not." Brendan interrupted, his own voice becoming forceful, "I'm nothing, now. I _have_ to be nothing to you. What kind of future can I give you if I'm in here?"

"It doesn't matter, Bren. I don't care about that, I don't care, I just….I just need you!" His words came out as a hysterical plea, he was begging him now, needing him to understand.

"I can't give you anything any more, Steven! I can't protect you in here. I can't look after you. I can't love you the way I've always loved you, not whilst I'm in here. What did you expect would happen, huh?" he paused, as if his question wasn't rhetorical, when they both knew it was. "What do you think is going to happen, Steven, one year down the line? Two years in? Five, ten years in, still with twenty to go? You really gonna come back here everyday, have the same conversation with me about some shit you don't care about and walk away happy?"

"I wouldn't care if it meant I could see you Brendun!"

"Yes, you would!" Brendan argued back, "Eventually, you would – "

"I wouldn't –"

"You would, Steven," he was shouting now, "It couldn't ever work, you would always have to walk away at the end of it, to leave and go back to the rest of your life. You'd have to leave every time. Just a few hours each day surrounded by all the other scum and their visitors, no physical contact allowed. Seeing me but not being able to touch me, to hold me," his voice faltered as he realised everything he was saying was true, quietening down as he continued, "You would never be able to kiss me, Steven. Not even once. Could you really cope with that? I know it would kill me to be able to see you everyday, but to never _really_ be able to see you again. Not properly."

Ste was quiet then, as if Brendan's words had hit home, realisation setting in. He rolled his eyes, threw his head back and shook it from side to side, as if he was disagreeing what Brendan had said, despite at the bottom of it all knowing the truth behind his words. He let out a long, agitated groan as he threw his hands up to cover his face.

"Besides," Brendan carried on, his voice calmer now, "I don't think they have such a thing as conjugal visits in the UK. And I know what you're like." He smiled as Ste moved his hands from his face and looked at him in confusion, "You really think you could go 30 years without it?"

Brendan was smiling now, trying to make light of the point he just made, but knowing there was truth behind it. It killed him, made him feel physically sick to his core to think of Steven in the arms of another man. But it killed him even more to think of him being alone for the rest of his life, never being loved the way that he deserves to be loved, even if he can't be the one to provide that himself.

Ste laughed under his breath, shaking his head – trust Brendan to be thinking about sex right now. "Well, you don't need to worry, Brendan, right. I think you've ruined me for other men.." He was trying to be coy, wanting him to know that no man could ever stand up to him in that department. He found himself suddenly trying to ignore the image of George that popped into his mind at that moment. He decided now wasn't the time to tell Brendan about that – in fact, there probably would never be a right time to tell Brendan about that.

Brendan smiled at the thought of him being the only one who could ever give Steven what he needed – sure, he could go elsewhere, but he would always remember Brendan as his first, and as his best. Nothing could ever compare to the way he felt when he was with Steven, a combination of pure animalistic desire and soul-defining love, and it sure made for one hell of a ride – one he had spent most nights remembering whilst locked up alone in his cell. His lips started to tingle at the thought.

"Oh, I'm not saying you'll ever get anyone better than me, Steven." Brendan continued to flirt with him. "I just know you, you've got a very healthy appetite for it."

Ste could feel himself blushing, trying to ignore the arousal in his boxers as he knew this really wasn't the time or the place. "Brendan, stop it…" he flushed.

Brendan was smiling back at him now, biting down on his lip as his eyes travelled down to the bulge forming in the crotch of his suit trousers. His breathing became heavy and laboured as he whispered out under his breath, "Jeez, you have no idea," he let out a frustrated sigh, "I want you so bad right now, Steven."

Ste reacted with actions not words, urging forwards into Brendan's lap and kissing him deeply, his hands framing Brendan's face as he pulled them closer to each other.

All too quickly they both jumped at the sound of the door opening and an officer walking in, Ste jerking up quickly and standing awkwardly by Brendan's side.

"Time's up, lads," the officer advised casually, "The judge is calling for you back in the court room, seems he's made his mind up."

Ste looked over to Brendan as he stood there, reluctant to leave him like this. Where did this leave them now then? Was this it? An argument, some harmless flirting, and the pair of them left with an unquenchable thirst for each other, wanting nothing more than to rip each others clothes off right there and then. Summed up their relationship to a tee.

"So," Ste had to ask, looking down at his lover, "Where does this leave us, Bren?" The question was so loaded, neither of them really knew how they should answer it.

"Well, according to you back in there, we're still in a relationship."

Ste was relieved to see Brendan smiling, grateful that he wasn't mad at him for getting his point across earlier in the court room.

"Yeah, well…you never properly ended it, really, did ya," Ste spoke with humour in his voice, "'cause I was dragged out of that hospital room before we had the chance to finish what we were saying and then you ain't spoken to me since then, so…"

Brendan winced at the memory of their previous separation, but saw the glint in Ste's eye and knew there was something there, something he desperately needed to hold on to. He hoped that Steven would understand how things were eventually.

"Steven, look," he started, "you know how it is, surely. I love you. And nothing is ever gonna change that. Even in thirty years time, even in the next lifetime, for all of eternity Steven I am never gonna feel any differently about you, I promise you."

"And I'll always feel the same way about you, Bren –"

"I know, Steven. I know you will. You gave me happiness when I thought it wasn't even possible, and I'm gonna spend every night in here wishing I was at home by your side, wishing I could have done right by you," Brendan's head dropped as he conceded there had to be a catch to what he was saying, "But you gotta see, Steven, surely you gotta see that I have to let you go. I have to let you move on…I have to let you live your life."

Ste was silent as he considered the sense behind Brendan's words, but he just couldn't give up. He saw the prison officer moving towards them now and started pleading with Brendan, "Well you've gotta see that I'll never be able to move on from you, Bren. I'll never – "

"OK, that's it now time's up." The guard interrupted, clearly he had had enough of listening to their heart to heart and called his colleague into the room, both of them heading straight to Brendan to uncuff him from the table and to drag him back into his place behind the glass partition, back to hear his fate. Instinctively Ste leant in, held Brendan's face in his hands and kissed him, feeling his lips respond against his own. The kiss was desperate, like the one they had snatched at the hospital before he had been taken away from him, but this time it was Brendan that was pulled away by the guards and pushed out of the room, back towards the court room.

"Promise you'll let me visit you, Bren!" Ste called out after him, knowing Brendan could hear him, but feeling his heart deflate as he heard no response.

Had today changed anything at all?

-s-

Ste rejoined Jim in the court room as they stood for the judge. He looked over at Brendan, who was staring back at him through hooded eyes, his head lowered but a small smile forming over his lips as his eyes locked onto Ste's. No matter how dark their situation, there would never be a time when Brendan couldn't smile at the intensity of the love they had found between them, against all the odds.

Ste couldn't help himself, mouthing the words _I love you_ at Brendan as he stared back at him, watching Brendan's reaction as he sighed heavily and swallowed, holding back the smile that was threatening to break out over his face and give the game away.

They all sat down as the judge did, waiting with baited breath for his verdict.

"I have considered the arguments put forward by the defence, and the defence's reasoning behind the terrible crimes that Mr Brady has committed. Whilst a duty to protect those that you care about is a commendable trait, one must draw a line between this desire to protect, and the duty that is placed upon us all to obey the laws of this country. To take the life of another is a terrible crime, but one that is sometimes deemed necessary if the life of another is in immediate danger. In this instance the court has not been convinced that the threat to the lives of others was sufficient or imminent enough to mitigate the circumstances of the crime. Therefore, Mr Brady's appeal to overturn his conviction for murder cannot be allowed to proceed, and his conviction and existing sentence will remain –"

"No!" Ste cried out, "You can't do that! He hasn't even done anything wrong! Just hear him out, will ya!"

The judge looked down on him with disdain, simply answering him with his final words, "Court dismissed."

Jim turned to Ste to calm him down, but saw the defeated look in his eyes as Brendan was escorted away, back to the cells, back to the life without him.

"I'm sorry, Ste." Jim offered genuinely as he guided him out of the court room, "We tried our best."

Ste didn't respond, just felt numb to his core – Brendan had gone, and he was never coming back.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Thank you all so much again for your reviews! You have no idea how much they make me smile, then pretty much go straight to a new Word document and start writing again!**_

_**Hope you like this one, let me know what you think!**_

Chapter 8

Steven's words echoed through Brendan's head as he stood in his cell, changing out from his suit and back into the grey tracksuit he wore every day on the inside.

"Promise you'll let me visit you, Bren!" he had screamed after him.

Brendan hadn't had the strength to answer the boy, nor to turn around and look at him, afraid he wouldn't be able to cope with the look in his eyes as he crushed all of his hope.

Had he not listened to anything he had said?

Brendan cursed himself for giving in to the boy whilst they had been in that room together. He had panicked after being dragged out of court, wanted to make sure that Steven knew the thing with his Dad had to be kept secret. He fooled himself into believing that this was the only reason he had asked to see him – as if every fibre of his being hadn't been crying out for him since he saw him walk into the court room earlier that day.

When he had walked into the room, eyes laced with fear, Brendan had wanted to protect him immediately, to calm his fears, and to feel his beautiful boy close to him again. He needed to know he hadn't slipped away from him completely; and for those beautiful, heated few minutes together, Brendan opened up and let Ste see inside.

He thought he had made him see sense, thought they had had their proper goodbye now, and that they had reached a mutual understanding. Then he said those words, and Brendan knew this wasn't it for Steven – knew he wasn't giving up on him yet, and the visiting orders would just keep coming, day after day. Brendan feared he had made it so much worse by seeing Ste that day, by letting him know that their love would never die, making Ste believe that he could chip away at Brendan repeatedly and he would one day give in to him.

Brendan sat back down on his bed, leaning up against the wall and bringing his feet up onto the bed, his knees bent. He pulled out his bible and started to read, hoping to find in its words a distraction to take his mind away from Steven.

Try as he might, it wasn't working, and he found everything he read reminded him of his boy.

He realised then that he hadn't brought up the issue of Steven's behaviour, that he knew he had been due in court, had wanted to know why he had been so reckless. He cursed himself again, wanted to turn back the clock to be in that room with him again. He would have stayed more in control – not been so transparent in front of him; begged him to keep his life on the right track; made him see that there was no need for him to throw away everything he had on the outside by breaking the law and turning into as bad a person as Brendan was himself.

But he had been powerless – completely powerless – when he had come face to face with him. He always had been, but the months apart had made him so desperate, there was no chance of Brendan keeping control of what he was feeling. Even if he could say the words that he wanted Steven to hear, he couldn't stop his body from reacting as it did, making the truth known to Steven. He had always been able to read him so accurately, the two of them in such fine tune that their bodies could speak to one another, a whole conversation in one glance. He had no chance of hiding this from Steven.

He thought back to the first time he had felt that lack of composure in front of him. Sure, he had known pretty early on that this boy did strange things to him. He had watched him from afar in the club to begin with, then wormed his way into his life bit by bit, making sure Ste looked at him in the way he wanted him to. He admired so much about the boy – he seemed that little bit different to the others.

He was happy, knew how to have a laugh, was carefree and able to just be who he was all the time. He wasn't afraid to just start dancing in the middle of the club when Rae came over to audition as a DJ, even though he didn't exactly have the moves like Jagger and he was the only one on the dancefloor. Brendan would have felt so self-conscious, so exposed, but Steven just got on with it, couldn't care less if anyone saw him.

He was a brilliant father, the kind that Brendan wished he could be to Declan and Padraig. Steven would do anything to protect his kids; always looked out for them and provided for them as best he could, and never screwed things up like Brendan always seemed to.

He was fearless, couldn't help but be sassy even when his better judgement should have told him otherwise. He hadn't been scared of Brendan, even at the beginning he was blackmailing him into giving him a job, seemingly oblivious to the danger Brendan threatened to unleash. Even after he had beat him, when Steven was humiliated and victimised at Brendan's hands, he had still been there the next day, answering him back, standing up to him in a way that nobody ever had before.

And he wasn't afraid to just be open and honest about who he was. Brendan had spent years hiding, hating himself for wanting another man, always picking guys who were weak and vulnerable so that he could manipulate them into keeping quiet. He had expected Steven to be the same, but found he was so much stronger than he had anticipated. Stronger than Brendan was. Brendan had watched him, seen how quickly he had been able to accept exactly who he was, and live with the kind of pride Brendan thought he could only dream of. But Steven had helped him, had put up with all of his shit and at the end of it all, once he had chased away his demons, he had found the strength to love Brendan with all of his heart. Only then had he become vulnerable to Brendan's self destruction.

Steven had so much, so much that Brendan didn't have. It was only now he was realising that throughout it all, even right at the beginning, he never had power over him at all. It was always Steven that held the power, Steven who could control Brendan in a way none of the others had been able to, because Steven was the only one Brendan had ever loved. He really had changed everything.

Brendan remembered the first time he had felt powerless, not able to resist Steven, having to give in to him against all his better judgement. Amy had been round to deliver the news – Rae was pregnant. Her words had knocked the wind right out of his sails, knocked the air right out of his lungs. Brendan had been devastated, realising only then that he couldn't stay away from him. He had known what he had to do – that there was a child involved now, he had to end things. Steven needed to look after Rae, needed to forget about Brendan and be the father that baby deserved. Brendan had felt crushed at Amy's words, hating that it was him who had pushed Steven into Rae's arms, and insanely jealous that he could never have the kind of hold over Steven that Rae would now have.

Amy had asked him then, out of nowhere, _do you love him?_ And Brendan hadn't been able to deny it. He couldn't lie, even if he knew he should have done. But he knew he was bad news, he knew he had to stay away. He had given Amy his word, that he would end things with Steven, then had sat there at the breakfast bar after she had left, collapsing against the worktop, the pain in his chest beating away as he saw everything slipping from his grasp.

When Steven had told him in the stairwell, he had tried to appear calm and unmoved. He was silently thankful that Amy had pre-warned him, allowing him to show no emotion in front of Steven, to appear as convincing as he needed to be when he told him he needed to stand by her, that he had been using him the previous night and that he needed to move on; to be with Rae.

But Steven hadn't stopped, hadn't given in that easily. He was still pushing it, still wanting Brendan to come up with a solution, to make it all right. He had reached out for him, and Brendan knew the only thing to do to push him away. He had grabbed his hoody and pushed him back up against the wall, resolute that he needed to do all he could to keep the boy away from him now. Ste had looked back into his eyes, so confused that he was being pushed away, yet again. How did he not understand that Brendan was doing this for his own good now?

And then he had said those words to him. Those three little words; so huge in their meaning. _I love you. _His heart had stopped then as he looked back at him, told him to _shut up, please, just… _before Ste had leant in for a kiss. He tried to push him away, to stick to his plan, but he was dizzy with what he had just told him.

In that moment Brendan had thought about the other times he had heard those words. Eileen, Vinnie, Macca. They had never once had the effect on him that Steven's words were now. Now, for the first time, he had wanted nothing more than to say them back to him, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He knew then that it was true, that he really did love him, but he knew then that it was even more of a reason to push him away. He was no good, and Steven was so much better off without him.

He had touched his face, looked into his eyes, felt himself drawn to his lips. He knew he had to let him go, knew he shouldn't be giving in to him like this, knew it would be so much easier to push him away if he could convince him that he meant nothing to him. But he was just so powerless to stop himself, needed to taste his sweet lips against his own, even if it was for one last time.

Against all of his better judgement, against everything his head was telling him he needed to do, he gave in to his heart, for one glorious moment he just let himself pour all of his love over the boy, reaching forwards and claiming the kiss from his lips. It was tender, loving, desperate – it felt more intimate than they had ever been before, like he was allowing Steven to take a glance inside his soul. And then he had had to pull away, and it had been the hardest thing he had ever done before in his life.

-s-

"That was goodbye."

"Ah, thanks for the vote of confidence Ames," Ste retorted straight back as he let himself out of Amy's tight embrace, "you obviously think I'm going down, then."

"Well, I really can't see you getting out of this one Ste," Amy raised her voice to get her point across, although all anger she felt about the situation had evaporated, "I was there at your last trial, remember, and I don't think they'll have forgotten what you went and did straight after they let you off last time."

"Yeah, well," Ste felt defeated by her words, "Jim thinks the same, it's why I'm here ain't it, see the kids before tomorrow. Say bye to them and that."

Amy moved back from the front door to let Ste in to the flat she shared with her Dad in Manchester. It was in stark difference to the slum she had shared with Ste – this was clean, sharp, white walls and black furniture, random artwork on the walls and ornaments of no conceivable purpose dotted around the place haphazardly. It looked more like a bachelor pad for the over 40's than a home for three generations of the Barnes family, two kids included.

"Hiyaaaa!" Ste called out to Leah and Lucas, not sure of his way around the flat and hoping they would come running to him.

They did so within seconds, Leah first closely followed by her brother.

"Daddy!" They both called out as Ste knelt down to hold them both, squeezing the hug out of them as if it would be his last.

"I missed you, Daddy." Leah cooed adorably into Ste's ear, making him squeeze them both even tighter.

After a few moments he reluctantly let go. "Have you been good for your Mom and Granddad Mike?"

Amy watched on whilst leaning against the counter in the open plan kitchen, watching Ste as he played away happily with the pair of them. He was such a natural at all this, always had been, and Amy knew how lucky she was to have had two kids so young but to have always had Ste's support in their upbringing. He was a great Dad, knew how to treat them better than he knew how to treat himself, even despite his actions of late. She knew Ste was grieving, knew Brendan had taken control of his life for the past three years and that after the short taste of happiness he had given him at the beginning of the year, Ste was going to find it almost impossible to ever get over him. So she didn't lay into him about what he had done at the trial, didn't get on his back about how stupid he had been – she could see in his eyes that he knew how things were.

It did mean, however, that she was exhausted with it all. She desperately wanted to help him, to make him see that he was better off with Brendan out of his life – but no matter how many times she told him, he wouldn't have it. He seemed to get angrier each time she had said those words to him, to the point where she had given up trying to argue with him about it. She would obviously never understand what it was about Brendan that pulled Ste in, trapped him in his web and would never truly let him go.

"Hey, it's meant to be a nice day," Amy said as she joined her family in the lounge, "Bit of a heatwave, apparently. How do you fancy going out over the park for a bit?"

"Yeeeaaaahh!" Leah and Lucas sang in unison.

"Sounds good!" Ste joined in with a smile on his face.

-s-

Ste sat down on the park bench next to Amy, catching his breath as he kicked the ball back in Leah and Lucas' direction.

"You carry on without Daddy. Daddy needs to sit down for a bit."

Amy looked over to him fondly and laughed, "Not as fit as you used to be, Ste."

"Well I ain't getting as much exercise as I used to," Ste replied with a smirk, not sure if Amy understood exactly what type of exercise he was referring to.

They sat in companiable silence for a few minutes, watching their kids play happily, both feeling lucky that they had been so blessed in their life. For those few moments, they forgot about everything else – the drama, the heartbreak, the constant bickering about Brendan and how Ste had to let him go. It felt right, their little family, it had always worked so well, and Amy began to feel a pang of regret about what she was about to do.

"Ste?" she asked slowly.

"Yeah Ames."

She sighed heavily at how casual his response was, as if she was about to ask him for a cup of tea or something.

Her hesitation made Ste look up at her, where he saw the worry written all over her face. He sat up straight and gave her his full attention.

"What is it Ames?"

"Well," she was tentative, unsure how she was going to break this to him, "How would you feel if I…took the kids…to New York?"

Ste's tension washed away as he smiled at her, "Yeah, that's an ace idea. They'd love it there!"

Amy was taken back by his positive reaction, "Really?"

"Yeah, you deserve a break with 'em. I mean I took 'em to Florida didn't I and you didn't stop me. Like you said, they're your kids too, and you all deserve an holiday don't ya."

Amy screwed her face up, knowing Ste hadn't got her full meaning. She took a deep breath and carried on, "Except, I don't mean…as a holiday. I mean…I mean for good."

"You what?" Ste had changed now, had become defensive and confused, "Why you on about moving to New York again? Don't tell me loverboy has got a job over there?"

Amy swallowed, realised she hadn't even mentioned that to Ste. "Actually, we broke up. It's a long story, but it was too soon really, we were moving too fast. It was a mutual decision."

"What, and now you wanna take my kids to New York to get away from 'im? Wha – Why?" He could feel his stress levels rising as his volume did the same.

"No, it's nothing to do with him," Amy was forceful, but trying to keep her voice down for the kids, "And wasn't it only a few months back you were taking them to America with you, Ste? It's not one rule for you and another for anyone else."

"Yeah, well that was different – that was – " he didn't quite know how to finish, "That was – "

"It wasn't different at all Ste," Amy interrupted, "It's exactly the same, only you're the one left behind."

"But why New York?" He looked at her and saw it then, beginning to understand what was happening here, "Please don't tell me this is to do with Lee Hunter?"

Her silence spoke volumes. Ste groaned and leant back onto the bench, looking back at his kids and realising the situation they were in. He was up in court tomorrow, and most likely going inside for a few months at the least. He wouldn't be able to see his kids anyway – there was no way he would let Amy bring them to visit him, they were going nowhere near a prison at any time in their life.

He cared about Amy – she was his best friend, had always been there for him, even when he was at his lowest – at his worst. She had helped him through. And he knew she deserved happiness, more than anyone. He knew she had never really gotten over Lee; that despite it all, despite their reasons for breaking up, they had both genuinely loved one another. He couldn't remember Amy ever being as happy as she had been when Lee Hunter was around, as unbelievable as that was.

So he knew, deep down he knew, that he had to let her go.

"He drunk dialled me," she said out of the blue, a laugh escaping her lips at the memory of it, "said he loved me, still."

Ste shook his head but smiled back at her, "Typical Lee."

"Yeah," she smiled back. "I rang him back the next day though, and we talked. He's out there now, in New York. He's doing really well, against all the odds – you know what Lee's like. He just asked me, out of nowhere, he just asked me to come over, to be with him. As if it was the simplest thing in the world."

Ste played with his hands as he looked down to the floor. He knew what he had to do; knew what was the right thing to do for Amy and for his kids, to give them a better life.

He paused before he told her, giving himself a few more seconds to make sure he could cope with what he was about to do.

"OK," he said gently, watching her facial expression change as the realisation of what he had just said sunk in.

"What?"

He smiled at her and leant in to give her a soft hug. "I said OK, you should go."

She hugged him back tightly, "Really?! Are you sure?" She let go to look back at him, "Ste, you can come over whenever you want, you know that, and they will always be your kids – you'll always be their Dad."

"Yeah, I know Ames. It'll be hard, sure, but you deserve to be happy, and I know Lee made you happy," he raised an eyebrow at her, "just don't let Lucas turn out like him, alright?"

Amy laughed, "Nah, he's got better genes than that!"

He laughed and returned his gaze to Leah and Lucas, still happily playing together without a care in the world. He couldn't have been more different – felt as if his life was slowly breaking apart, as if everything he ever loved was just turning to dust, and soon he would be left all alone. He took a deep breath and blinked to stop the tears forming in his eyes as he felt Amy's hand reassuringly squeeze his shoulder.

-s-

The next day, Ste found himself with a strange feeling of déjà vu as he stood outside the court room with Jim, pacing nervously as he waited for his name to be called.

"Ste, calm down," Jim had pleaded with him.

How could he stay calm? He had well and truly screwed his life up, and the next hour was sure to confirm that for him.

"I thought I'd explained this to you," Jim continued, words as blunt as ever, "You're aware there's no getting out of this, Ste. It's not even a case of prepare yourself for the worst and you never know – I can tell you right now that you _will_ get a custodial sentence. It's just a case of how long it will be," he realised then how harsh his words must have sounded to the young lad, adding a feeble "Sorry, Ste."

Ste kicked the legs of the chair slightly before sitting down, head in his hands, feeling as if this wait was lasting forever. He had heard Jim's words, knew they were true but wished that they weren't – he was petrified at the thought of spending time on the inside.

He knew he deserved it after his actions; knew the reason why he had done what he had – it had all been for Brendan. After their moment in the holding cell at Brendan's trial last week, Ste had renewed hope that they could work something out, and that Brendan would at least let him visit now. He had left the court last week and been reminded that he would be coming back here today to face his own sentencing, and he scalded himself, wondering what the hell frame of mind he had been in to get himself into trouble like this. He was sure that things would be better with Brendan now, after they had gotten the chance to clear the air a little, and now the thought of spending time on the inside, most likely without Brendan, terrified him.

But as the week had gone by, he had continued to visit Brendan each and every day, and just like the past three months, Brendan had refused to see him each time. The first couple of times, Ste convinced himself that he must have been busy, that something must have come up to prevent Brendan from being able to see him; but as the week wore on, day by day he started to realise that the pattern was setting in again.

Ste agonised over his memory of the conversation they had shared, at the time he had been so convinced that this would change everything between them. He was sure they had turned a corner that day, that they had started to understand each other better, but Ste had spent hours in that waiting room over the past week, and realised nothing had changed at all.

And now he was here, facing time on the inside and after that, a lifetime without his kids. Sure, he could go to New York to visit them, but would that ever be enough? A week or two here and there; once maybe twice a year? It killed him to think that he would be one of those Dads whose first words to their kids was always, 'look how much you've grown!' Parents shouldn't notice their kids getting taller, they should be there everyday, oblivious to those changes until one day they realise their kids are grown up, taller than them, and they wonder how that happened. That's the kind of Dad he wanted to be.

He had kissed goodbye to his kids yesterday in an emotional farewell. He wanted so desperately to protect them from all this, had tried to stay strong in front of them and promise that he would see them as soon as he could, having no idea when that would be. He had told them that they were going to love their new home, that they had to write to him all the time and to draw him lots of pictures, that he would draw some for them and send them to them too. He hugged them desperately, and vowed he would make it up to them when he saw them next, however long that may be.

Ste heard his name over the speakers as they were called through to the court room, Ste being ushered into the docks in what could have been his last moment of freedom for a long while. He realised he was all alone, that nobody was here to support him. Ste sat there and he felt scared – genuinely scared – and never more alone in his life. He was facing a stretch on the inside, a result of his own reckless behaviour, and he cursed himself for ever having been so stupid as to pull a stunt like he did.

He spoke to confirm his name and address then zoned out, allowing Jim to take the reigns in his defence. He let his thoughts wander back to Brendan, where they inevitably always seemed to go, and felt a pang of regret that he hadn't told him about his dalliance with the law. He knew from what Jim had told him that there was little to no chance of being put into the same prison ward as Brendan if he did get sent down, although he still held out a tiny ray of hope that this might happen. He vowed that if it didn't, he would write him a letter, however difficult that might be for him, to make sure that Brendan knew he hadn't deserted him. He knew Brendan would be mad at him for getting himself in trouble – knew it would drive him crazy to think that this is what Ste had succumbed to, but he knew that telling Brendan, and having him be disappointed in him, was a far better option than letting him think he had given up on him completely.

After a short while he heard the judges voice boom out over the court as he was instructed to stand for the decision of his sentence. Ste was surprised at how quick it all was, felt as if he was just another number on a conveyor belt of petty criminals who were ushered in and out of this room all day, every day. He felt nerves rush through his body, feeling sick to the pit of his stomach to think that he was back here again, in trouble with the law after all those years away from it, all those years he had tried to be a better person, the type of dad Lucas could be proud of. He closed his eyes as he listened to the verdict, the regret of his actions hitting him hard in the chest.

He was given a 6-month custodial sentence, effective immediately, with the option of being released after 3 months on good behaviour. He swallowed hard, realisation setting in about what he would be facing in the next few hours.

He looked to Jim who smiled at him sympathetically, an apology without words. He nodded back at him, thinking in that moment that he hadn't ever properly thanked him for everything he had done for him – all of his help with the trial last time, and what he had done to get him closer to Brendan again. He mouthed the words _Thank you _to him, but it was too late now.

He felt the officers pull his arms behind his back, the cold metal of the handcuffs against his skin, the rough edge cutting into his wrist as he tried to struggle free. This was it; he was done.

-s-

Ste looked around him as he was marched through the prison wing to his new cell. He felt utterly humiliated. He had been stripped naked and searched in places nobody should ever be searched, leaving his dignity well and truly behind him at the door as he became accustomed to the life of a prisoner.

He tried to keep his head down as much as possible, avoiding the glares of the other prisoners, but all the while glancing in every possible direction, desperate to see the one face he had come here to see. He had no idea if Brendan was on this wing, despite all his visits he had never seen him, never found out which of the 16 wings in the prison he was locked into.

He was led into his cell, towards the end of the walkway and to the right. There was a lad already in here, who Ste assumed was his new cellmate, and who looked up from the book he was reading to observe Ste with intrigue. The officers uncuffed him and pushed him further into the cell, reading him a few rules about the daily routine – lights out at 10pm, roll call at 8am, the prisoner warden will see him in his office in 15 minutes, they will come back up to get him and take him there.

They left him then to get acquainted with his new surroundings. Ste looked at the four walls around him, cold, grey and clinical. He looked down to the hard metal bed, the bucket in the corner of the room and the small basin and cracked mirror in the other corner. He felt his eyes start to fill but blinked the tears away quickly, telling himself silently to man up, or face the inevitable taunts at the hands of his fellow inmates.

As soon as the guards left, the young boy on the other bed in the cell stood up to introduce himself.

"Hi, mate, how you doing? First time is it?"

The guy seemed friendly enough – he was about Ste's age, maybe a little bit younger, with a similar build to Ste, and an easygoing demeanour. He reminded Ste of someone from the village – someone who not so long ago hard torn his life apart, but he wasn't going to hold that against this stranger. Ste wasn't foolish enough to trust his first impression, however, and decided he would reserve his judgment for a few days time. He did concede though that he could have done a lot worse for a cellmate, by the looks of some of the heavies he had spotted around the ward.

"Yeah," Ste answered him eventually, "Yeah it is. I were in young offenders a few years back but its me first time in one like this."

He tried to keep his tone as relaxed as possible, trying to play down the panic and unease that he was naturally feeling.

"It's my first time, too," the young lad replied, "Been here a month or so now, you'll get used to it. What's yer name?"

"Ste." He answered, holding out his hand to his cellmate.

The young lad took his hand and shook it confidently, looking him straight in the eye as he did so.

"Hi Ste, I'm Karl."


	9. Chapter 9

**_Once again, thank you for your awesome reviews and for the follows too! Glad you're still enjoying it :)_**

Chapter 9

Karl looked the new boy up and down, quietly pleased with what he saw. He looked scared, proper scared, but was obviously making a desperate attempt to hide it. He was skinny like Karl was himself, maybe even a little skinnier than him, and wearing baggy tracksuit bottoms and a navy blue hoody that drowned him as if it belonged to someone bigger than him, just making him look even smaller.

His handshake was firm, though, which Karl hadn't expected, and he had a glint in his eye – he looked like the kind of kid who had been a troublemaker at school, and who wasn't afraid of a little backchat.

Karl decided he liked the lad almost instantly, appreciating his vulnerable good looks and flawless skin. He reminded him a lot of himself, in all honesty, which was part of the reason why Ste wasn't the kind of guy to turn Karl's head in that way.

No, Karl was much more interested in chipping away the dark exterior of a certain sexy Irishman, hoping he could be the one to uncover the secrets that the mysterious man kept hidden underneath.

"So, erm," Ste approached him nervously, "what's with the warden, then?

"Huh?" Karl answered, his mind on other things.

"The warden? They said I've gotta go and see him in a bit," Ste tried to appear as relaxed as possible, "Just wondered if you knew what it was all about."

"Oh," Karl clicked, "Yeah, probably just gonna read you all the rules an' that, give you a job to do while you're here."

"A Job?" Ste remembered having to mop the floors of the common areas every day whilst in young offenders, wondered if it was similar here.

"Yeah, they'll get you doing something shitty around the place then pay you hardly anything for it," Karl looked the lad up and down, found himself wanting to know more about him, but not sure why. "It'll be fine, he ain't too bad to be fair, just a bit of a toff."

"Oh right," Ste nodded along, letting a small smile creep over his lips as he began to feel at ease in Karl's company.

"What you in for, anyway?" Karl asked.

Ste wondered if he should tell him the real reason – _Oh, the love of my life, who's a guy by the way, was banged up for triple murder and I had a bit of a breakdown 'cos I miss him like crazy so I got drunk and stole a car, which I crashed, then stole another car right outside of court and ran over a police officer with it, just so I could get close to him again, but now I'm locked up here with you and I have no idea if he is in here. Say, have you seen a crazy looking Irish guy with a funny moustache? Cause that's my man!_

He decided against it, "Stole a couple of cars, drove them drunk. Pretty stupid really, nothing serious," he answered. "What about you?"

"Got caught with a stash of Class A whilst on a caution for dealing from a few months back," Karl was as open as Ste had been, "Only a short stretch for me."

Ste wondered how this lad could be so happy, assuming there must be something, or someone, who kept him going whilst he was in here.

The guards arrived to collect Ste and take him up to the wardens office as promised, where he was fed more of the same from before. He was made to stand as the warden - an old, stubby, greying, middle class white man with comedic round glasses - read him the riot act. You will not be violent. You will keep your cell in good order. You will do exactly as the guards say, etc….He had zoned out, bored to the teeth already. He was dreading the next 6 months.

As he made his way back to his cell, his eyes darted anxiously over every face he passed. He wanted so much to see Brendan, hoping he would just turn a corner and bump into him, like they always seemed to do in films. Why was real life never that cliché? His heart was sinking with every prisoner he saw, wondering how many could be in this ward – 25, 30 maximum – and he must have counted that many already. He wasn't here; he just had to face facts.

As he walked past a group of heavy looking thugs, Ste was aware of one of them looking him up and down like a leach. He was disgusting, tall and fat, kind of guy with a neck as wide as his head, like he had spent his life in the gym but forgotten about it 5 years ago and now it had all gone to pot. His head was shaven, tufts of black hair showing up, and his face was distorted, his mouth sneering to show 3 missing teeth, and the rest of them yellowed. Ste wasn't close enough to smell him, but he could imagine exactly what he would smell like, and it made him wretch.

"Ummm," the perve had said as Ste passed him, looking him up and down and winking as he locked eyes with Ste, "Fresh meat."

Ste didn't know if it was a threat of violence or a sexual come-on, but either way he was scared. He picked up the pace, desperate to get away from him, slamming the cell door behind him as soon as he stepped foot inside and heaving as he leant back against it.

Karl jumped up and walked over to him, offering a supportive hand on his shoulder as he asked, "I guess you've just met Friendly Bob."

Ste was breathing quickly, part panic and part revulsion that he seemed to have caught the eye of such a vile creature. He shivered as the thought crossed his mind what 'Friendly Bob' must have done to be locked behind bars.

"If you mean the creep with half his teeth missing and a serious case of being beaten with the ugly stick, you got the right guy."

Karl laughed at him, "Yeah, that's Bob," Karl's face dropped in concern for his new cellmate, not being able to ignore his urge to protect him in here, "You should stay well away from him in here if you can. Don't wanna freak you out or anything, but you're just his type, if you know what I mean…"

Karl's words hung in their air. Now more than ever Ste wished he had Brendan here to protect him.

"Listen," Karl continued, sitting back down on his bed as Ste walked over to his own, sitting on it for the first time and flinching at how ridiculously hard and uncomfortable it was, "You need to watch your back in here. I'm not being weird or 'owt but there's some guys in here, they love a new guy, especially one that looks like you, whether its 'cause you're an easy target or what, I don't know. I had the same when I got in here, and you ain't too different from me. But I've got your back."

Ste swallowed as the full meaning of Karl's words sunk in. "Cheers," he smiled up at him cautiously, his eyes full of fear and regret, but genuinely feeling thankful to have been put in a cell with someone like Karl.

"Not that there ain't a few in here who you wouldn't mind being jumped by, if that's your thing."

Ste looked up at Karl as he spoke, shocked at his words, sure he must have misunderstood until he saw the glint in his eye. "Wait…are you…?"

"Gay?" Karl jumped in, "That a problem?" He was defensive all of a sudden, his laid back attitude all of a sudden replaced by anger, the threat of violence emanating from his face. Karl panicked for a second, wishing he hadn't revealed so much to his new cellmate so quickly.

Ste let out a small laugh, against his better judgement, and saw Karl tense up even further, "Couldn't be less of a problem, Karl, I promise ya'," he watched Karl visibly relax before adding, "I've technically got a boyfriend _and _a husband meself at the moment. That a problem?"

They stared each other out for few seconds before they both laughed, the ease with which they seemed to relate to each other comforting Ste.

"You stick with me, Ste, I'll let you know who to steer clear of in here," Karl had reassured as he patted Ste on the shoulder.

"Oh yeah, come on then," Ste looked up to him, smiling, "I want the full low down."

Karl sat down next to him and started his lesson in Cell Block C and it's inmates.

"Well, you've met Friendly Bob," he started, looking at Ste through his big eyes, watching him visibly relax in his presence, "Well, that goes without saying, you absolutely need to steer clear from him. He's the biggest queen in this place, isn't even scared that everyone knows it, because everyone knows what he does to people who cross him. Seriously, don't even think about trying to be clever if he talks to you, just keep your head down and walk on."

Ste shifted uncomfortably on his bed.

Karl continued, "You've got the Old Firm, they're the group of skinhead guys you always see hanging about together looking shifty – don't ever go near them. Don't ever sit on their table in the canteen, even if there's nowhere else to go. Eat standing up, sit on the floor, skip your meal – just never approach these guys, or you're toast. Then there's Billy Hill, he's the resident gambler – the lanky guy you'll see around, always has a pencil behind his ear. Whatever you do, don't mention anything to the guy about any sport, especially football, or he'll have you betting your life savings on everything from first person to find a maggot in their dinner, to the first guard to crack under the pressure, to who's most likely to be Friendly Bob's next victim."

Karl stopped, could see the look that had descended over Ste's face – anxiety, panic, regret. "Hey," he tried to calm him down, "It's not all bad. A lot of the guys are pretty decent – most of them are just quiet, just wanna get on with it. Even those I just mentioned, they're fine as long as you leave them alone, once you've settled in and shown 'em you don't take any shit, they'll leave you alone, just like they do with me now. Just don't get in their way and they won't get in yours."

"Even Friendly Bob?" Ste was only half joking, but Karl laughed in response anyway.

"Yeah, he'll get bored of trying soon and he'll move on to the next guy."

Ste smiled at Karl, "Thanks for the heads up."

Karl smiled back at him, before adding his final thoughts. "There is one guy, though, that you should be scared of. I think everyone in here is wary of him, even the nutters I just mentioned. It'll do you good just to know in advance to stay away. He's pretty fucked up, completely unpredictable. He has the whole place running wired when he walks into the room."

Ste looked up to Karl, dread in his eyes, "Yeah?"

"Yeah. He's in here for murder, triple murder – killed even his Dad I think, along with some cop and some well hard gangster from Liverpool – Danny someone or other." Ste's ears pricked up as the penny dropped, "His name's Brendan…Brendan Brady."

Ste jolted at the sound of his name, hated how it sounded on Karl's lips, as if Ste should be the only one to ever speak those two words. He couldn't believe it. Brendan was here. _Shit. Brendan was here. _

He needed to see him, needed to touch him, needed to wrap his arms around him and melt into his embrace. Needed to feel that safety that he only ever felt when Brendan was around.

He jumped up off the bed and darted to the mirror, had to make sure he looked his best, listening to Karl as he carried on rambling about how dangerous Brendan was, how he needed to stay away. Ste felt a strange sort of pride that Brendan had established himself in here; loved that Ste was the only one to know the real Brendan, that nobody would _ever_ know him like he did.

"…You need to stay away from him, Ste, honestly, he's like some sort of psycho. Has this proper weird moustache and everything." Ste was only half listening, until something Karl said stopped him in his tracks, "It is pretty sexy though, to be honest with you."

Ste turned round to him, hating the self satisfied smile he saw play across Karl's face. "You what?" Ste barked, half jealous, half incensed at his cheek.

"Yeah, I'll point him out to you. He is proper fit, Ste." Karl was oblivious to the horror in Ste's eyes, "He isn't as bad as everyone would make him out to be. Don't get me wrong, you should still steer well away from him, Ste, but I don't think he's all that bad. He's different when he's on his own, when it's just me and him, like he lets his guard down or summat."

Ste was stunned into silence. What was Karl getting at? What did he mean that Brendan was ok when it was just the two of them? Everything Karl had just said was hitting home for him. His jaw remained dropped as he walked slowly back to his bed, feeling his legs give way beneath him as he fell down onto it, his hands breaking his fall so Karl didn't notice anything. He rambled on in the background about the other inmates, completely unaware that Ste's world was crashing down around him.

Why would Karl say that? Why would he know what Brendan was like when he was _on his own._ What did that even mean? Surely Brendan couldn't have betrayed him like that. After everything they had been through, after everything he said to him last week after his appeal, after everything Ste had done to get himself close to Brendan again. Had he been sleeping with Karl the whole time? Is that why he didn't respond to his visiting requests? Because he was too busy up here doing to Karl what he had dreamt about Brendan doing to him every night?

He couldn't speak, had forgotten the need to breathe properly, and Karl was looking at him now with concern.

"You ok, mate? You've gone dead pale."

Ste couldn't believe his cheek. He looked up at him now, a poor imitation of himself. How had Brendan replaced him so quickly? How had he just forgotten about him, carrying on with this….this scally in front of him. Sure, Ste had slept with George, but he had done it because he was lost, angry, heartbroken. And he had regretted it straight away. The thought of sleeping with anyone else had made him feel sick after that. Had Brendan felt that way after he had been with Karl? How many times had they been together? Was he better than Ste? Did he…did he beat him afterwards?

He was panicking now, his head full of so many questions – questions only Brendan could answer. But he couldn't face him yet, couldn't face looking him in the eye as he rejected him.

"I'm fine," Ste managed to muster up, against everything that he felt inside, "I'll be fine."

-s-

Ste had barely spoken a word since he had found out the truth. Since Karl had all but told him he was sleeping with Brendan. _His _Brendan.

They had gone down to the canteen together for dinner, Ste zipping his hoody right up to the top and pulling the hood over his head, covering his face as best he could so as not to be seen by Brendan. He couldn't face him yet, didn't know how he would react. And besides the hatred he felt for Karl right now, he wasn't stupid enough to ditch him when he was the only person he knew in here, and he seemed to know what was what on the inside.

They had eaten in silence and returned to their cell, Ste sure he had managed to go unnoticed in the 20 minutes he had been down there. He got straight into his bed, laying awkwardly on his side as his bones dug into the thin mattress, feeling the springs of the bed underneath, his pathetic pillow providing no support whatsoever.

He lay there for ages, facing the wall, his hood pulled up around his head and covers pulled right up to his face. Karl hadn't bothered him, assuming it had been first night syndrome; that Ste was just taking the time to adjust to the place. Ste heard a knock at the door, and could hear Karl shuffling around before the door opened and he heard voices.

Not just any voice. _His voice._

"Got a new friend, I see," his accent unmistakeable, Ste begged him to talk so he could hear more, fighting all of his instincts to stay hidden under the sheets and facing the wall.

"Yeah," Karl answered him, "You'll have to meet him tomorrow, think he's sleeping."

"Huh." Brendan replied. He glanced his eyes over the sleeping form, cocking his head to one side. He couldn't help but notice that there was something so familiar about the rise and fall of those sheets over the body underneath, about the way the man underneath was holding himself with such vulnerability. He knew it was wishful thinking, knew it must be his mind playing tricks on him, but a part of him wanted to rush across to the bed and pull the covers back, just to make sure it definitely wasn't him.

"What can I do for you tonight?" Karl was flirting, shamelessly, as if he was aware that Ste was listening and wanting to show off with him there.

Brendan's eyes moved back from the sleeping body and onto Karl's face. He breathed in sharply through his teeth and urged forwards at Karl at the same time, his trademark move to intimidate through sudden fear, and Karl jumped back slightly at the attack.

"Nothing," Brendan answered him, and walked away as quickly as he arrived.

Ste heard Karl pad back to his bed and tried to stop his body from shaking, as the tears flowed silently down his face and onto his pillow.

-s-

Back in his cell, Brendan curled up into his bed and hugged the pillow close to him. He didn't know why he had been to see Karl tonight. Maybe it was because he hadn't received a visiting order from Steven today and he was worried - irrationally, he knew; but maybe he needed someone to tell him that. Karl had seen him broken last week, had seen the pile of visiting orders and knew Brendan was hiding something. Maybe he thought he could get reassurance from him, or maybe he just wanted company.

But seeing that figure on the second bed had stirred something up inside him. It had looked so much like _him_, like Steven, that if he didn't know better he would have thought it _was_ him. But it couldn't be. Could it?

He vowed to put his mind at ease in the morning, find out who this new boy was and stop the insane thoughts that were going round his head. Then he leant back and dreamt of all the absurd things he would do to the boy if he could just have one more night with him.

-s-

Brendan found himself wandering through the prison corridors the next day. He wasn't aware of the looks he was getting, the other inmates not used to him perusing around like this, as if he was looking for something. He strode down the middle of the walkway, others moving out of his way, pushing themselves up against the wall to avoiding knocking him as he strolled past. He had that look in his eye, he was on a mission.

He rounded the canteen block, walked all the way past the row of cells on the other side to his own. He glared into Karl's cell as he passed it, stopping briefly for the first time since leaving his own 6x4, found neither Karl nor his new cellmate inside, so carried on to his next port of call. He reached the exercise yard but still no sign of the new lad, onto the shower block which was empty, and he was about to leave until he heard a loud groan coming from round the corner – a sharp intake of break and a crash as something fell to the floor.

It wasn't uncommon to hear such things on the inside – when power struggles and questions of control were top of the agenda, there was always someone throwing their weight around, making sure the others knew their strength and that they weren't afraid to use it. Brendan stayed away from it all though, kept his fists clean unless someone dared to try to wield control over him, and then he made sure that they would regret it. He certainly wasn't one to jump to the aid of every pathetic scally who couldn't hold his own on the inside.

But there was something about that sound that just seemed so familiar. Devastatingly familiar. Like he had heard it before, far too many times. Something was drawing him in, some inexplicable force dragging him back, making him look into the room where the sound was coming from, the feeling that there was something about this one that was different, that he couldn't ignore.

He recognised the first man immediately – Friendly Bob, his disgusting face leering over the man in front of him, who was stumbling around and struggling to stay on his feet. Brendan could only see the back of the other man's head, but it was clear that this was the man who had made that god-awful sound. He watched on as Bob leant back, clenched his fist in preparation, and almost in slow motion struck it against the side of the man's face.

"Oi," Brendan shouted out, feeling the curious need to protect this man, watching as his body fell lifelessly to the floor, out cold from Bob's punch, "Oi, you," Brendan continued, racing towards Bob to stop him from laying into the man again, "Get the fuck away from him, you disgustin' wretch!"

Bob wasn't going to argue with this man, had heard his name whispered under the breath of many in this place, all with the same warning to steer clear. He hobbled over and ran through the door to his left before Brendan could get near him, not fancying his chances against the prison psycho.

Brendan walked slowly over to the other side of the changing area, nearing the man's body which lay on the floor, unmoving. He watched as his chest rose and fell; still alive.

As he got closer, he couldn't help but draw the comparisons, hated letting himself think it, think that anyone could compare to his perfect boy, but the curve of his body seemed so familiar, so perfectly similar to Steven's. He felt the instant need to protect this man, whoever he was - in the same way he had protected Steven. The man's hood was up, his head thrown to the side from the impact of Bob's fist, his face covered from view by his hood. He was laying partially on his side, away from Brendan, his legs splayed across the cold tiled floor.

Brendan's eyes travelled down his body, to the thin slither of flesh above this waistband, where his hoody had ridden up slightly. He saw the golden brown, toned, skin, and a light scattering of hairs down the centre of his torso. Just like Steven.

And then he saw it, a dark marking peering above the waistband of his trousers, covering his left hip. Brendan fell to his knees, only partly on purpose, and gazed intensely at the imprint; couldn't believe what he was seeing could be true.

He reached his hand out slowly towards him, gently stroking his finger over the exposed flesh, so warm and delectable to the touch. He ran his finger under the waistband and pulled it down slightly, took a sharp intake of breath and leant back onto his heels as he saw it there in all it's glory – the tattoo.

He prayed for a second that there just happened to be another perfectly formed, beautifully tanned, heart-breakingly vulnerable guy in the area who happened to have the same ridiculous tattoo in the sexiest of places. That this wasn't Steven, that this was some poor imitation of him. He remembered all the times he had devoured that tattoo, kissed it and licked it, stroked it gently with his fingers in the post coital haze he had often been in with this beautiful boy.

His eyes travelled up the boys body, past the clothes which all of a sudden became recognisable - the hoody one of Brendan's own, the t-shirt beneath it one of Steven's that Brendan had thrown on for a jog one morning when he couldn't find his own, assuming it had been discarded somewhere around the flat in the middle of them tearing each others clothes off the previous night.

And then he saw it, peering out of the top of the zip at the neck of the hoody – a small silver chain, with that all too familiar cross hanging off it.

"No, no, no, no, no, no," Brendan whispered, repeating it over and over until the word lost its meaning. This couldn't be happening. Not Steven. Not here. Not in this hellhole. What was he doing here? What had he done to get here? Had he done this for Brendan? Because of Brendan? To spite him? To prove a point?

His finger traced up the zip of his hoody, then he held the chain in his hand, remembered how much he loved seeing it against Steven's beautiful chest. He thought of that first night in Dublin, when he had undressed the lad for the first time in months, had seen it lying there against his body as if it belonged there.

He had looked down at it, then back up at Steven, "You kept it?"

Ste had smiled back sheepishly, knowing how much that had meant to Brendan, "Yeah, it kept me alive, Bren."

Brendan had been overwhelmed by the sentiment of such a small gesture, "You never mentioned it, I didn't know if you'd ever got it."

"I woke up with it in the hospital," Ste had replied, "I kept it in my wallet since then. Couldn't have Doug finding it could I? He might of twigged that I were still in love with you if he'd of seen it." His smile had been broad and unabashed, matching his words.

Brendan had watched it beat against Steven's chest that night as they made up for lost time between the sheets, thought how fucking perfect it looked on him, how he loved to see Steven wearing nothing but this cross. He finally understood why Ste had been so obsessed with it for years.

Brendan held it in his hands now, feeling the chest below him rise and fall slowly. He reluctantly moved his hand up to the boys face, still helplessly slumped to the side, and held his chin as he moved it around to face him. There he was; his perfect boy.

Brendan leant back on his heels again, looking up to the sky and fighting back the tears that had sprang uninvited to his eyes. He swallowed hard, took a deep breath and manoeuvred his arms under the boy, one under his knees and the other under his neck as he picked him up into his arms.

He felt Steven's weight against his body as he stood up, felt his warmth surround him, and his heart kick start into life inside his chest. Steven was still out cold, his head leaning against Brendan as his arms hung by his side, flailing around as Brendan carried him through the prison.

He didn't care now, didn't care one bit that everyone was looking at them as if the apocalypse was occurring right before their eyes. He didn't care that it must have looked like the most intimate thing to ever happen in this godforsaken place – he only cared that he needed to get Steven back, back, back to where? Back to safety? There was no safety in here. He needed to get him out of here.

He turned the corner and pushed open the door to Steven's cell. It was empty, Karl wasn't here, so he gently lay Steven down on the bed, flat on his back. He looked down at him, tried to walk away but he couldn't leave him, not whilst he was still so vulnerable. He sat down on the bed next to him, reached one arm across and rested it against the bed on the other side of Steven's waist, then took his other hand and stroked the hairs free from his forehead.

He had never been so desperate, so unconditionally ecstatic to see someone and so devastated to find him here at the same time. He watched his soft eyelashes as they rested peacefully against his face, willing those eyes to open up and to let him look into those piercing pools of blue. Brendan brought his thumb up to his mouth, licked it and returned it to Steven's face, wiping away the congealed blood from his lip, from where Bob had hit him. He pulled Steven's lip down with his thumb, inspected his split lip with concern, and toyed with the idea of leaning in to kiss the wound better.

He felt the boy flinch then beneath him as he grazed his thumb over the cut, could sense he was coming round. He was debating whether to pounce on the boy or to scold him for being here, when he heard the door open and looked up to see Karl bounding into the cell.

He laid one eye on the pair of them before him and his expression dropped, the smile wiped clean off his face.

"What's going on here?" He blurted out, voice riddled with accusation.

Brendan felt Steven's hand brush against his own, looked down at him to find his eyes opening slowly, confusion written all over his face. He didn't answer Karl, was too distracted by Steven below him, by the tingling sensation he was feeling in his fingers as Steven's brushed against his own, by the beauty of this lad that he got to call _his, _that he got to keep all to himself.

"Well, I guess you've already met then," Karl continued, an anger to his voice that Brendan had never heard before, "Bren, meet my new cellmate, Steven."


	10. Chapter 10

**_I know I'm starting to sound like a broken record, but wow thank you so much for your amazing reviews I'm totally blown away and so pleased you're still enjoying it and not bored yet! *blushes*_**

**_Here's your next update – hope you like!_**

**_Should warn you there's some violence in this chapter – guess who…_**

Chapter 10

"It's Ste to you!"

"It's Brendan to you!"

They both barked back at Karl in unison.

Karl recoiled back from the double-sided attack, curious as to why they could both be equally as angered at what seemed a friendly gesture to Karl.

"Err, alright," he laughed as he looked at the two of them, Brendan's arm over Ste's body as his hand lay next to his waist, "Am I interrupting something?"

Brendan turned to face Ste, a smirk threatening to spread across his face as he thought about the ferocity with which Ste had scolded Karl for using his full name. He loved that he was the only one who could call him that.

He wasn't met with a smile on Steven's face, though. It was more a look of pain; of hurt and disappointment that Brendan hadn't been subjected to in months, and it confused him.

"St –" he started but was cut off.

"Nah, I think it's me that's interrupting ain't it," Ste snapped at the pair of them, "I'll leave you two to it."

He pushed Brendan squarely in the chest as he pulled his legs from between his body and the arm he had draped over him, placed his feet down, got up and stormed out of the cell, shoulder barging Karl out of his way as he passed him.

"Steven," Brendan stood straight up to run after him, "Steven, where are you going –"

"Erm," Karl stood in his path frowning, holding out a hand against Brendan's chest to stop him, "Am I missing something here?" His voice was rattled, he was trying to hide it, but he was jealous. How had Ste had such an effect on Brendan in such a short space of time? And why had Ste done this when Karl had staked his claim on the Irish guy pretty obviously the day before?

Brendan looked down at Karl's hand with disgust, sneering "Don't ever fucking touch me. Get your hands off me, kid. Get out of my way."

Karl hesitated before stepping to the side, Brendan rushing past him after Ste. He got outside the cell and looked ahead, left, then right – no sign of him anywhere. He turned back around and marched back into the cell, right up into Karl's face.

"Where has he gone?"

Karl stared back at him with fear and uncertainty, his tongue stuck in his throat, unable to answer.

"ANSWER ME!" Brendan shouted, spit flying into Karl's face as he spoke.

"Erm…erm," Karl wracked his brains, momentarily forgetting everything he knew as fear took over, "Erm…he works in the kitchens, cooking…he's probably –"

Brendan had left before he finished his sentence, marching out and heading towards the prison kitchens after Ste.

Karl stood in the cell, never more confused in his life. Ste had only left the cell 1 hour earlier, said something about going to put someone straight on something. Had he been to see Brendan? Had he made a move on him already, had the guts to do what Karl had been thinking of ever since he arrived? What were they doing back here, all _cosy_ together on the bed. It just didn't make sense.

He sat back down on the bed and leant against the wall, his mind trying to process the confusion over what had just transpired.

-s-

Brendan wasn't entirely sure where the kitchens were, marched around like a madman trying to find them, before peering through the windows on a set of double doors and seeing Ste inside. He barged through them and over to Ste who was stood purposefully at the counter, hacking away at a pile of potatoes in front of him as if he was letting all of his anger and frustration out on them.

"Hey," Brendan's tone was curt and sharp as he grabbed Ste by the arm, "Hey, Steven, what was that all about?"

Ste shrugged Brendan's hand off his arm and ignored him, carrying on laying into the potatoes in front of him.

"Steven, I don't understand," his voice was laced with desperation now as he moved around to stand in Ste's eyeline, "What are you even doing in here, Steven?"

The silence lay heavy between them, Ste sulking as he sniffed back the tears that were threatening to fall, cursing them and telling himself to man up.

Brendan was panicking now, "I don't get it, Steven. Why won't you talk to me? Why get yourself locked up in here and then ignore me like this? You shouldn't be here, Steven."

"Oh, well, I'm sorry to ruin your fun, Brendan!" Ste cried, his voice full of spite.

Brendan stood there, arms outstretched, face riddled with confusion as he wracked his brain to think what he could have done wrong this time.

"What are you even going on about, Steven?" He reached out to grab both his arms, trying to shake some sense into the boy, but Ste flinched away from him, inadvertently smashing into the stainless steel trays on the worktop and drawing the attention of the guard, who rushed over to them.

"Please return to the block, Brady," the guard ordered, "Kitchen workers only in the kitchen." He ushered Brendan to the other side of the double doors, Brendan struggling against him as he tried to stay close to his Steven, needing answers to his questions.

Brendan was at a complete loss, waiting outside the kitchen and pacing back and forth, desperately searching for something he had done wrong. Was it because he hadn't let him visit? Surely he knew that he wanted to see him, but couldn't. He thought Steven had understood at the appeal. And that didn't explain why he had reacted like that in front of Karl.

He had so many questions, found it infuriating that Steven was being as sassy as ever and refusing to talk to him, not even giving him a reason why. He loved how feisty his boy was, but he lost all control over himself when he was being pushed away like this for no good reason.

He waited for what seemed like hours, must have been around 30 minutes, pacing the length of the corridor outside the kitchen. His face jerked up as he heard the doors open, a couple of the other kitchen lads strolling out, followed by one of the guards. Seconds later Ste appeared and Brendan rushed towards him.

Ste looked straight ahead, wiping his hands on the paper towel he was holding as he passed Brendan, announcing to him, "Get the message, will ya."

"Steven, please," he wouldn't beg anyone other than Steven like this, "Please, I just don't understand. What am I meant to have done?"

"Just give it up, Brendan," Ste snapped back as he walked ahead of him, Brendan left chasing him like an obsessed schoolgirl, "I'm not interested."

"Ah, come on, Steven," he wasn't even ashamed of how desperate he sounded, didn't care that people were staring as they passed, how odd it was that Brendan seemed to have switched personalities overnight, "You want me to get down on my knees and beg ye, Steven, I will."

"Don't bother," Ste dismissed him, turning the corner now and opening the door to his cell. He tried to get through and close it before Brendan could follow him in, but he wasn't quick enough and found Brendan's foot stopping the door from closing. He knew he wasn't strong enough to push him back, so walked back into the cell and let Brendan march in after him.

Karl was still sitting on his bed reading, perplexed that he was seeing Brendan open up more today than he had in the whole of the previous month, and all because of Ste.

Brendan looked over to Karl, "Look, do ye mind, Karl? Can you get lost for a second?"

Karl got up to leave until Ste snapped back, "Oh, no you don't Karl, you can stay right there. Anything you've got to say to me, Brendan, you can say it to him too, right."

Brendan was sceptical, didn't know what Karl had to do with anything. He had let Karl see him vulnerable once before, and wasn't sure if he was ready to let him see more of that now, to let him hear him pouring his heart out to the man he loved. But then he looked down at Steven, looked at the pain in his eyes and realised he would do anything, would give up anything, to be able to get him back in his arms where he belonged.

"Fine," Brendan succumbed, "fine, whatever you say, Steven. I just…I just don't know why you're so angry with me."

Karl watched their exchange with heated interest, confusion etched all over his face, almost in awe of Ste that he had evoked such a strong reaction within the notorious Brendan Brady.

"Please, Steven," Brendan pleaded, "I'm begging ye."

Ste sighed as he sat down on the bed, head in his hands. He looked across to Karl and then back into Brendan's eyes.

"Eyar, why don't you ask your new boyfriend, eh?" His arm outstretched towards Karl, "Ask him why I'm pissed off with you."

Karl's eyes widened with surprise, wondering why the hell he was being brought in to this mind-baffling argument. He shuffled forwards on his bed, glancing between the pair of them who were both now looking at him, waiting for him to speak.

"Wha –" Karl started.

"What the fuck are you on about, Steven?" Brendan interrupted Karl before he could speak, suddenly twigging that Ste had referred to Karl as Brendan's _boyfriend_, confused to hell about what had given him that impression, "You think," Brendan looked down at Karl with a look of utter disgust on his face, "You think…me and him? Steven, No!"

Karl glanced between the two of them again, realisation slowly setting in as to why Ste was acting so possessive. Brendan was staring right into his eyes, pure lust and devotion bleeding from his pores.

"Why would I settle for rags, Steven, when I've got the finest silk locked right in here," Brendan clenched his fingers and thumb together and jabbed at his heart as he spoke. He could see Steven sigh at the intensity of what Brendan had just said, his anger seeming to dissolve oh-so-quickly and the ghost of a smile threatening to give away his relief. The room fell quiet as Brendan waited for Ste to make his next move.

"I thought," Ste looked up to Karl then, confusion playing back across his face, "But you said, right…you said, last night…" his voice was trailing off, trying to think about exactly what it was that Karl had said, but realising he had joined the dots together in his head all by himself.

Brendan's glare fixed onto Karl then, "What have you been saying, Karl?"

He was angry now, but Karl seemed oblivious, his mind working in overtime and his face unable to hold in the shock.

"Nothing, I've said nothing," his eyes flitted between the pair of them as he sensed the electricity passing between them, "Wait, are you…" the penny had finally dropped for Karl, "Are you the guy?"

Ste frowned back at him, "What do you mean, the guy?"

Karl paused.

"The one whose picture he hides away in his bible and takes out when he thinks nobody is looking?"

Ste looked over at Brendan, whose eyes darted to Karl, surprised that Karl knew about this and panic dashing past his eyes, as Ste felt the twitch of a smile on his lips.

"The one who turns up every day to see him," Karl continued, "And has him staring over the visiting order for hours on end."

They all sat in silence for a few moments as it sunk in, and Brendan was the first to speak.

"Steven, I promise you," he knelt down beside him now, looking up into his eyes, "I haven't been with anyone – not Karl, not anybody. I've only ever thought of you in here, every second. I've hardly even _spoken_ to anyone in here, let alone anything else," he reached his hand up to Ste's chin, moving it up to look into his eyes, "I promise ye."

Ste looked back at him, his expression softened, taken in by his words and finding himself powerless at Brendan's mercy. He started to chew down on his bottom lip as he thought about whether to give in, knowing it was only a matter of time before he ended up back in Brendan's arms. A sharp pain suddenly coursed through him and he flinched back, remembering the split lip courtesy of Friendly Bob, reminding Ste of the morning's events.

Brendan saw it all and a rage descended over him as the image of the disgusting man laying into his perfect boy flashed before his eyes. He stood up quickly with purpose and marched towards the door, as if his body had been suddenly possessed with the need to seek revenge.

"Sorry, Steven," he called back over his shoulder as he neared the door, "Something I gotta do," and with that he was gone.

-s-

Brendan paced around the prison now with venom in his eyes, scouring the corridors and leering through the window of every door he passed, one face etched into his retina, the scumbag he needed to seek out and kill. He was stalking around like a madman, the other inmates watching on, seeing the rage in his eyes and the snarl on his mouth and knowing that something was about to go down. Some of them started to follow him, desperate for a piece of the action, but Brendan was oblivious to them – he had one thing on his mind, and one thing only.

He searched everywhere, in every cell he passed, flinging open every door that wasn't locked. He thought he saw the back of his head as he turned the corner at one point, grabbed the guys collar back and held him up so his feet nearly left the floor, strangling the man with his own clothes until he pulled his head back and saw that it wasn't him. He dropped this stranger to the floor within seconds and carried on, the sound of his wheezing filling the air as a couple of Brendan's now 10-strong entourage stopped to help the poor confused man on the floor.

"Where are ye," Brendan cried out at the top of his lungs, his tone pure menace and evil, a warning to anybody who might think to try to stop him.

He passed the double doors to the exercise yard and then he saw him, stopped in his tracks and burst through the doors to get to him. He ran towards him, his rage pouring out of him through the deep, guttural cry that left his lips. Bob was caught off guard at the ferocity of the man urging towards him, left in shock as he grabbed him by the neck and pushed him backwards. He lost his footing, panic spreading over his face, turning a putrid shade of red as the mad Irishman squeezed his thumb and forefinger into the glands at the side of his neck and he felt the air become constricted, his eyes wide now with shock and then infernal pain as he felt his back meet the solid concrete wall.

Brendan pushed him further against the hard wall, lifting his hand higher to drag the man up further still. His feet left the ground as Brendan clenched the fist of his free hand and flung it forcefully against the mans face, thriving off the sound of its impact – the crack of bone against bone, the groan escaping the perverts mouth as his skin tore open slightly from the impact and blood starting to course down the side of his despicable face.

Friendly Bob was bigger than the Irishman, taller and wider, but Brendan had crippled him with the element of surprise and he was helpless now, his mind addled with confusion, what had he done to piss off the psycho? He fell to the floor, his face throbbing where Brendan had hit him, and begged him to stop.

But Brendan wasn't about to give in; he was nowhere near finished with this vile creature who had dared to touch his Steven.

"Aaaaaaaaarrrrrggghhhhh!" Brendan cried as the rage continued to pour out of him, leaning over the man and continuing to punch him relentlessly – face, stomach, chest, anywhere he could get contact. He was possessed, wasn't even affected by the sound of the crowd of inmates around him egging him on, or the prison sirens kicking in as he continued to beat the helpless man below him.

Brendan stopped his assault briefly to pick him up, grabbed him by the clothes on his chest and held his face up to his own, disgusted by the stink of the mans vile breath, enough to make a desperate crack addled hooker run a mile.

"Don't you EVER touch him!" Brendan screamed into his face, spit flying out of his mouth as he struggled to contain the anger within him, "EVER!"

He flung him away now, the broken pervert rolling over onto his back and looking up at Brendan as he edged closer yet again. Bob rolled further away, onto his front as he tried to stand up, bringing himself onto his hands and knees but not being able to find to strength to get any further.

The guards were rushing in now, Brendan oblivious to the commotion as they tried to break through the crowd of chanting inmates to get to him, his mind focused on one thing only – ending this man. He was on all fours, looking up at Brendan and pleading with him to stop, but there was no chance of him giving in now.

He stood over him and in a move that was pure psycho, kicked up at Bob's head, not holding back a single bit, feeling the full force of his foot as it connected with his face, his groan sounding like the plea of a dying man.

Brendan could hear the guards now, felt one of them grab for his arm as they reached him but he wriggled free – he wasn't finished yet. He lifted his foot up above the pervert, still on all fours, and stamped down hard on the middle of his back. The sound was deafening, not sure which noise came from the impact of Brendan's foot on his back, and which was the mans face as his body collapsed beneath him and his head hit the floor, out cold.

Brendan screamed out again as three guards were on him now, holding him back, the others rushing to Friendly Bob's aide as he lay motionless on the floor; some of the inmates still chanting away, some stood wide eyed in shock, others turning away and fleeing the scene, realising this had become pretty dark and wanting to play no further part in it.

Brendan struggled as he was manoeuvred through the crowd and away from the scene, looked down at the man on the floor and spat at him in disgust, his final assault. He could hear the guards in his ear, knew he was facing a massive backlash for what he had done, but felt it was worth every thing that was thrown at him. Nobody hurt his Steven like that and got away with it. Nobody.

-s-

Ste had watched Brendan leave the cell minutes earlier and sighed, Karl looking at him in complete confusion.

"Where's he going?" he had asked, desperate for answers from Ste.

"I've got a fairly good idea," Ste replied.

"Well should we go after him? Is he gonna do something stupid?" Karl seemed genuinely concerned for Brendan's well-being, and this didn't sit well with Ste at all.

"I'd stay well out of it if I were you," he sneered, "And anyway, what's it to you if he does? Why is he _any _of your concern, Karl?"

Karl exhaled, frustrated, bringing his hands to the side of his head and running his hands through his hair furiously. He was shocked, confused, disappointed. He thought knowing about Brendan's little secret, that he cared for someone on the outside, was his way in with him – that he could have exploited it and in time made the man care for him instead. But now it had backfired – now he was faced with that very man that Brendan cared for, had to share a cell with him, knowing full well that he had led Ste to believe Brendan was more to him that he really was.

He sat back on his bed and they stayed there, each of them working silently through their thoughts.

Ste wanted desperately to believe what Brendan had told him, that he had promised nothing had happened between him and Karl. He had sacrificed so much for his man, had given up his freedom to be close to him again, and he knew that even if he had been with Karl, he would always go back to him if Brendan would have him. The problem was that he always had that seed of doubt, that innate insecurity that he wasn't enough for Brendan; that he would move on and find someone better. He was _Brendan Brady _for gods sake – he was notorious. His name had been known throughout all of Chester, his reputation preceding him, the impenetrable guy with the weird moustache, that he somehow completely pulled off. It made him even more attractive, if possible. He was the guy that girls would pour themselves over, desperate to get close to him, to know what made him tick, to see inside his soul. But he had given them nothing – he hadn't been interested. Instead, he had picked Ste as his plaything, and for some inexplicable reason, had found it in him to fall in love. With Ste. With the scrawny little scally from Manchester, whose mother hadn't even wanted him. Ste would never understand what Brendan saw in him, what made him want to kill anyone who hurt him. It had never made sense to him – he supposed that was why he had found it so easy to believe what Karl had insinuated the day before.

He was suddenly intrigued as to why he had lied, and broke the silence with his honest question, "Why did you do it, Karl?"

Karl had looked up at Ste, feigning ignorance, "Do what?"

Ste sighed, "You know what you did. What you said yesterday. Made out like you and Bren were, y'know, _close_."

Karl shrugged, "Don't know what you mean." He knew exactly what he meant.

"Karl," Ste demanded, "You said something about him being this big bad psycho that everyone was scared of, but then that he was alright with you, when it was just you and him," he stared at Karl as he tried to avoid returning his gaze, "Why did you say that?"

Karl stared down at the floor, trying to avoid Ste's question until the silence became deafening and he knew he had to face his lies head on.

"I don't know Ste!" Karl bit, "I don't know why I said that. I mean, how was I to know that you knew him? Huh? Why didn't you say that you and him were…I don't know – what are you anyway?"

Ste laughed, didn't know if there were enough words in the English language to describe what he and Brendan were to each other.

"He's my life." Ste replied, his honesty simply devastating.

Karl had swallowed, looked up at Ste and realised then, started to understand that he was messing with something so much bigger than he could imagine. The way Brendan had changed, the way he had begged and pleaded with Ste – that he hadn't even cared that Karl was there watching them, such was his desperation to get Ste to believe him. It was strong. The effect they obviously had on each other, it was strong. And Karl started to feel the guilt creep over him that he had messed with that, despite how jealous he was.

He felt the need to explain himself, deciding to open up to Ste, "Look, I'm sorry. I had no idea – I mean, how could I?" He walked over and sat next to Ste on his bed, "Brendan's pretty big news in here, everyone's scared of him. I saw him in here on my first day and he looked up at me, I swear I saw something in his eye, like he thought he knew me or something. It disappeared as quickly as it arrived, but for that split second I felt like I'd seen something in him that no-one else in here had. And it can be useful, y'know, to have someone like Brendan on your side. To have him fighting your corner, yknow?"

Ste listened to Karl's words, knew he was being sincere, understood his meaning as he knew Brendan was out there now, protecting his own honour. He could hear commotion in the distance, sure it was Brendan and Friendly Bob at the centre of it.

Karl continued, "The one evening I looked into his cell and he thought no-one was looking, and he was holding this picture in front of him, and he was proper emotional, like, whoever was in that picture was someone that he proper cared about. I'm guessing that was you…" Karl trailed off, clocking the smile threatening to cover Ste's face, "And I thought, yeah, I can get inside this guys head. I know it sounds a bit desperate, but it gets pretty cold in here at night, I guess,"

Karl was trying to joke, but Ste shot him a look of pure evil, that he would dare to even suggest that Brendan would have been the one to keep him warm at night. "You what?" Ste barked at him.

Karl flinched, realising the strength of the possessive nature of their relationship, that Ste wouldn't let anyone anywhere near Brendan, and exhaled in frustration as he realised he wasn't making his point very well.

"I guess, I'm just saying that I'm sorry. When you came in here, you seemed pretty decent and that, and when you said you were gay, I panicked a little bit, wanted to make sure you didn't get in there first with him. I wanted you to think we were, like, already there or something."

Ste sneered at him with disgust.

"But I lied," Karl continued, "And I'm sorry. If I'd a known you were the guy, y'know, I wouldn't…But how was I to know, Ste?"

They sat there in silence, Ste letting Karl's words swirl around in his head before they slotted into place and it dawned on him. No wonder Brendan was so desperate, so confused – he had done nothing wrong, yet Ste was pushing him away, all because of Karl's words. Why had he trusted this lowlife over the _love _of his life?

"I wish you hadn't," Ste spoke quietly, needed Karl to understand, "If you had any idea, _any _idea, what me and him have been through to get where we are."

The room was thick with tension, Karl desperate to push Ste, to find out more about them, but reluctant to take it too far, knowing he had done too much already.

After a few moments, Ste unexpectedly started to open up, "He changed my life, like proper changed it. And he changed his own life, too, for me. For me and me kids." Ste sniffed back tears as he spoke, trying desperately not to let go in front of Karl, "He's a good man, deep down, Karl. But he's my man, yeah," his words were forceful, "He's _my _man."

Karl nodded, was about to speak until they both heard the roar from outside in the corridor. They looked at each other and stood up, running towards the door and opening it as Brendan was being ushered past, two guards restraining him as he struggled against them, a trail of inmates following them, cheering excitedly and clapping their hands, banging the walls as they went along.

Brendan looked straight into Ste's eyes and the menace evaporated immediately, he stopped his struggle against the guards, as if Ste's presence had just calmed him completely. Ste let a smile dance over his lips, knowing this was all because of him – Brendan had done something stupid, but he had done it to protect him, and Ste couldn't help but feel his heart swell inside his chest.

Brendan's mouth twitched into a smile as he was ushered past, looking at Ste and mouthing the words at him, _For You._

-s-

It had been 48 hours since Brendan had been frogmarched past Ste by the guards, taken away somewhere and Ste hadn't heard from or seen him since, nor Friendly Bob. Chinese whispers rounded the place about what had happened, that Brendan had attacked him out of nowhere, left him lying on the ground, and he was now in a hospital bed with suspected paralysis. Serves him right, Ste thought.

But where was Brendan? Nobody knew where they had taken him, and Ste panicked, convinced he had been transferred to another prison ward, to be kept well away from Bob, and as a result, away from Ste.

"I'm telling you, Ste," Karl reassured him as he paced around his cell, same as he had for the past 2 days, "He's probably been locked up in solitary for a few days, that's how it goes here."

"Well when am I gonna see him?" Ste cried back in desperation, "What if he doesn't come back?"

"He will, Ste – "

They both looked up suddenly as the door opened, relief flooding through Ste's veins as his eyes settled onto Brendan's.

He ran towards him, flung his arms around his neck as Brendan secured his own around Ste's waist, pulling him into his embrace as closely as possible.

"I thought you'd gone," Ste rambled, words spilling out of his mouth at record pace, "I thought they'd taken you, I don't know where, thought you'd been transferred or something, thought they had put you somewhe –"

Brendan shushed him and cut him off with a quick kiss on his lips. Karl watched on, seeing for the first time the intimacy the two of them shared, couldn't help but gasp silently at the shock of seeing Brendan like this, a totally different man to the one he had know for the past few weeks.

Brendan pulled away and looked back into Ste's eyes, still holding him close around his waist.

"Stay with me tonight."

It was less of a question, more of a command, but one that Ste was only too happy to follow.

"Yeah, ok," he replied, the pair of them smiling into each others lips as they kissed again.

**_Sooo…this chapter ending, kind of leads me to ask your opinion – shall I have a go at writing an M rated chapter next? _**


	11. Chapter 11

**_WARNING: RATED M _**

**_So, I should probably put a warning out there first and foremost – this chapter is most definitely rated M! I decided to have a go so I hope you like it! It's the first time I've ever tried writing anything like this so I hope it's ok. Let me know!_**

**_I know some people might not want to read such smut so there's absolutely no plot – if you want to skip it you won't miss any of the storyline – they just don't get much sleep tonight, that's all I'll say! _**

**_And thanks again for your reviews and feedback - I know a couple of you mentioned that Brendan should be more angry at Ste for being in prison - that will most definitely be coming up in the next chapter, I'm thinking right now he's in a bit of shock and just wants to make up for lost time ;)_**

Chapter 11

The sound of the door locking behind him was the best sound Brendan had heard in a long, long time. He had swapped cells with Karl for the night, told him that he owed them one, and had bribed the guard who had come round to do their roll call, threatened him to keep his mouth shut. The guard hadn't really been bothered, knew that this kind of thing happened all the time, knew it wasn't worth his while to kick up a fuss and turned a blind eye instead.

Brendan looked up at the beautiful boy stood before him now, the air thick with lust and need and anticipation, both of them knowing exactly what was to come. They smiled at each other, Brendan noticing the heavy rise and fall of Ste's chest as he tried to control his desire, sure that Steven was watching his own heavy breathing in the same way as he felt his heart racing in his chest.

When he looked at this boy, it wasn't just that his heart skipped a beat. It was the rush he felt course throughout his entire body; like his blood had run cold for a second, like his body had forgotten to function properly in that short space of time, felt everything else in the world just fall away, nothing else mattered. When he saw that smile light up Steven's face, he had to pinch himself to believe that anything of this earth could ever be this beautiful. He forgot how to breathe properly, or lost the ability to do so, and knew he had the same effect on Steven when he noticed him gasp for breath after staring deep into his eyes for a moment too long.

Brendan edged forwards slowly towards his lover. Sure, he didn't agree with him being here – he nearly died when he saw the boy in here three days ago, believing and hoping it was his mind playing a cruel trick. He was furious that he had been so reckless, that he had screwed up his life like that just for him. Brendan definitely did not feel worthy of that sacrifice.

But right now, none of that mattered. Right now, he had the next 8 hours locked in a room with this boy, this man who had changed his life. And he didn't want to waste another second with his conflicted thoughts. Right now, he just wanted _him._

He edged closer to him and held out his hand, grabbing the zip at the top of his own hoody that Steven seemed to have appropriated, and slowly pulling it down, stroking his hand against the boys chest as he went, feeling the outline of his muscles underneath his thin polo shirt. He reached the hem and felt the zip pop open, let his hand travel under his t-shirt and over the warm taut skin underneath. He snaked his hand and his arm around Ste's back, touch as light as anything, and felt the boys skin react to his touch, goosebumps appearing all over his skin, a shiver running down his spine.

He looked into his lovers deep blue eyes, admired once again his full thick eyelashes framing them perfectly, smiling at the knowledge that his touch was having the same effect as ever. They hadn't lost it, despite everything. They hadn't lost this desperate need for each other, this overwhelming connection and electricity between them.

Ste smiled back at him as he lifted his hand up to run his fingers through Brendan's hair, stroking around his ear and gently dragging his fingers up and around his neck as his thumb stroked his cheek. Brendan instinctively leant into Ste's hand, placing soft, sensual kisses along his thumb and the inside of his palm. Brendan closed his eyes and swallowed, the warmth of Steven's hand against his face making him feel safe; making him feel loved.

There was nothing on this earth that he wouldn't do to make this boy happy. And he intended on spending the next 8 hours making him very happy indeed.

He looked back into Steven's eyes now, finding his own want and desire reflected right back at him. He stepped forward, closing the gap between them, lifting his hand up to his own face to join Steven's hand there, their fingers linking together and gripping on, as if he would never let go.

As their bodies touched, morphing into one, he could feel Steven's excitement pressed against his thigh, and one look into his eyes confirmed that Steven had noticed the same pressure against his own leg. Brendan smiled, a small, playful smile, almost a twitch at the side of his mouth, and with that their inhibitions were lost. They both gave into to the passion, their lips meeting with such ferocity and need that Brendan almost couldn't handle it. He felt Steven's tongue glide against his own, tasted him inside his mouth, almost couldn't let him in enough, wanted, needed to be closer to him now more than ever.

Steven was reciprocating with equal desperation, could feel his hands wandering all over Brendan's back, grabbing at him in a frenzy of hunger and passion as Brendan held his neck, pulling his head as close to him as possible.

He needed more, needed to feel the softness of Steven's skin, the touch of his body against his own. He slotted his hands underneath each side of his hoody, palms resting flat against Steven's chest, and stroked his hands down the length of his arms as he took the hoody with him, hearing the clink of the zip as it dropped to the floor. Brendan grabbed the bottom of Ste's t-shirt and lifted it over his head quickly in one swift movement, feeling the cold of the air around them as his need to get the boy naked forced his lips away from his own for a few short seconds. Their lips banged together again briefly before Ste felt the same carnal urge for skin on skin, grabbing Brendan's jumper and pulling it up and over. The small neckline of his jumper got caught as he tried to pull it over his head, they both tugged at it desperately before Ste felt the need to kiss him again, diving back in as Brendan still tried to free himself. Brendan responded despite the distraction, curling his tongue around Steven's own as he finally broke free of his clothes and pushed Ste back onto the bed forcefully.

Ste felt the back of his legs hit the harsh metal bed and fell backwards, pushing himself further up the bed as he stared into Brendan's eyes and waited for him to join him. He climbed on top of him, straddling his knees either side of Ste's hips, holding his palm against his cheek, thumb underneath his jaw and against his chin. Ste snaked his hand around Brendan's neck and smiled - in this position he couldn't help but be reminded of their very first kiss.

There was no way Brendan was going to push him away this time though, and he leant straight in again, straining his neck to pull himself closer to Brendan. He felt the warmth of his chest against his own, noticing his muscles had become more defined since he had been inside, sure Brendan could feel the opposite of himself, that his bones seemed to protrude now more than ever. It didn't matter though – Brendan would have Ste in any way he could, skinny or toned, he was his Steven and he would always do anything for him.

Ste grabbed at Brendan's tracksuit bottoms hurriedly, pulling the material easily down and over the swell of his gorgeous arse as Brendan stood up off the bed, still leant down as he continued the kiss, kicking his shoes off and letting Ste push his trousers down his legs, then stepping out of them and climbing back on top of Ste in just his tight black boxer shorts. He needed Ste in a similar state of undress, leant over him and snaked his hand down between their two bodies until he reached the waistband. Ste lifted his hips without hesitation to allow Brendan to pull both his tracksuit and boxers down, feeling Ste wriggling below him as he freed himself of his last remaining clothes.

Brendan pulled away from their kiss for the first time, knowing that he had to take a second to appreciate Steven, naked in all his glory right in front of him. He straightened up on his knees and looked down at the boy, so fucking special. He could see he was skinnier now, winced slightly at the thought that this could have been because of him, because of what he had put him through, but swept the thought from his mind as quickly as it had arrived. Ste was looking up at him in awe, his smile beaming, no shame this lad, even with his cock lying there against his stomach for the whole world to see.

Brendan eyed him up and down and raised an eyebrow at him suggestively as his eyes locked back onto Steven's.

"You're so fucking perfect, Steven," he let out breathlessly, watching Ste's pupils dilate as they stared back at him.

They both turned their head towards the door as they heard the shout for _Lights Out _from the guards, and the room descended into pitch black. The anticipation added an element of surprise and Ste started giggling, knowing Brendan would use this sudden blackout to his full advantage.

He could sense he was close to him, could almost hear Brendan's thoughts whirring around, deciding what he should do to his boy.

He heard the bed creak and suddenly felt Brendan's tongue run up the length of his cock and along his slit, "Oh, shit, Bren –" he cried out as the sensation coursed through his entire body.

Ste started but couldn't finish, couldn't get his words out fully, his body shivering now with the feel of Brendan's tongue working its way up the middle of his chest, over his clavicle and up to his chin, making its way back home to his lips, joining Ste's tongue and curling around it as their lips met in a passionate kiss.

Ste could feel the moist slick of saliva running up his body which Brendan's tongue had left behind, feeling the draught against it more so than the rest of his body, shivering as he thought about it. He felt Brendan's elbows leaning either side of his face, his hands running through Ste's hair as he deepened the kiss.

Ste opened his legs to allow Brendan to rest inside them, their bodies flushed together now, skin on skin, heat against heat. Ste could feel Brendan's erection through his boxers and groaned at how divine it felt, remembering how perfect it had always felt inside of him. Brendan ground down against him, Ste's rock hard cock enjoying the friction between them.

Ste needed to get closer, needed that little bit more contact between them. He lifted his legs up and hooked them behind Brendan's back, using his heels to push the tight band of Brendan's boxers down over his lower back. He hooked his toe into the boxers and pulled them down, all the way to his knees as Brendan laughed into his mouth. They continued to kiss each other hungrily, remembering how Steven always used to pull his boxers off this way, Brendan lifting his knees one by one to allow Ste to take them all the way off and fling them to the other corner of the room.

"I nearly forgot about that little trick," Brendan whispered as his kisses made their way along Ste's cheek and to his ear, taking his ear lobe in his teeth and pulling it gently, sucking on it and sending waves of hot breath down Ste's ear.

Ste felt a shiver travel down his spine and course throughout his entire body, the sensation overwhelming and the biggest turn on Ste had ever known, one that Brendan always reverted to when Ste was angry with him, because he knew he couldn't resist, "And I nearly forgot about that one," Ste replied, almost breathless.

Brendan's kisses continued down to Ste's neck, hungry and passionate, nibbling gently at his golden brown skin as he made his way down, over his shoulder and down to his nipple, Ste keening into him, throwing his head back and moaning loudly as Brendan bit against his nipple lightly, flicking his tongue against it quickly to send a wave of intensity through his body. Ste grabbed onto any bit of skin he could along Brendan's back, sure he was digging his fingers in stronger that he should, marking his territory. He needed more, needed to feel Brendan near his throbbing cock, ran his fingers through his hair and pushed him down gently.

Brendan stopped what he was doing as he felt himself being goaded down towards where he wanted to go, took a second to look up to Steven and smile, thinking how much he had missed him being so demanding and pushy in the bedroom. He could see Ste's head flung back, looking up to the ceiling with his tongue hanging out slightly, then looking down at Brendan as he felt the lack of contact against his skin. He saw his lover staring back at him, had adjusted to the dark now and could see nothing but admiration in his eyes. Ste smirked as he pushed again lightly on Brendan's shoulders, "Please, Bren – " he started but couldn't continue as he felt Brendan's lips against his torso again, tickling the scattering of fine hairs and he made his way down, feeling his moustache prickle against his skin – so unmistakeably _Brendan._

Brendan felt Ste push up against him as he reached his cock, letting his tongue play with the tip teasingly and loving the groans he elicited from the boys perfectly fuckable mouth as he began to devour his length with his own.

Ste gasped as he felt Brendans lips around him, marvelling at the ease with which he took him all the way down, felt the vibrations all the way through his body as Brendan hummed gently against him, knowing exactly what he was doing. Ste was coming apart slowly, thought about all those nights he had spent apart from this Adonis between the sheets and felt himself trying to savour every single moment, every touch, every kiss, every shiver down his spine more that he ever had before. He looked down at Brendan as his head bobbed up and down slowly, heard the wet sound of his lips meeting his skin as he looked up to Ste, eyes locking together. God he looked so fucking perfect.

These two knew pain, they knew hurt. They knew the strength it had taken to stay away from each other at some points, when they knew they were no good for each other despite how _right _it had always felt when they were together like this. They had felt every emotion towards each other – love, hate, pain, anguish, longing, jealousy, safety, pure unadulterated desire. But never indifference. They had never _not _cared, and when they had been together like this, it had never not felt _perfect_.

Brendan could feel the changes in Steven's body now, how his breathing had quickened and his hips had started gyrating at a faster pace, pushing himself further into Brendan's welcoming mouth, his hands reaching out to their sides and grabbing at the sheets, and Brendan knew he was close. It was quicker than normal, but they had been apart for so long, and Brendan wasn't ready to let him have his release just yet.

He let his lips drag over the skin of Steven's cock one last time and let his hand take over, the salty taste of Ste's pre come on his tongue as he leant all the way up kissed him, let Steven taste himself. He was such a horny little fucker, loved it when he did this, loved how _wrong _yet how _incredible _it felt at the same time. And it was something only Brendan had done – none of Ste's other sexual partners had felt the need to transfer Ste's own bodily fluids back to him through their kiss; it was so unmistakably _Brendan _and that's why it turned Ste on _so damn much_.

Brendan grabbed Ste now with force and flipped him over, his strength making the move easy, Brendan loving how he could throw Ste around like a ragdoll in bed. Brendan lay down on top of him, kissing his neck and whispering into Ste's ear once more, "Control yourself, Steven," hearing his boy groan helplessly in response.

He kissed down the boys back, brushing his hands along the sides of his torso, knowing it left the boy in tatters, just the right side of the line between tickling and sensual. He reached Steven's arse, bit down onto the soft skin, smoothing his cheek over Steven quickly. He loved how soft and silky his skin felt against his face, knowing how Ste loved to feel his own stubble against him. He grabbed at Ste's arse and massaged gently as he let his nose run lightly up and down the small of Ste's back, just above his crack.

Ste grabbed the pillow with both hands, burying his head into it in defeat, and felt himself ready to explode, not sure if he could take any more of the suspense. He brought his knees up underneath him, urging Brendan to take what he wanted and to do it soon.

"Please…I can't…please Bren," he pleaded, his voice muffled by the pillow.

The sound of him begging, calling him by _that _name, was enough to make Brendan obey, letting his tongue slip between his cheeks and run past his hole. Ste's body responded to the contact the way it always did, goosebumps over his arms, toes curling, breathing staccato as he tried to handle the shocks running through his system.

Brendan ran his tongue up and down, slowly, teasing him by pausing each time he ran it past his hole. Then he gave in to the signs of Steven's body, the desperate pleading in his moans, letting his tongue run in and out of him with rhythmic motion.

Ste was struggling to contain himself now, his body a mess, his moans louder every second, oblivious to his surroundings and the cold, hard, world outside of their embrace. Brendan reached round and fisted Steven's cock, slowly at first and then ferociously, giving in to his boy the way only he knew how. This was incredible, their bodies so intimate, Brendan wanting to taste every part of him, to own it all.

He pulled his tongue away, running it up Steven's back as he nuzzled his head into his neck and sucked hungrily at the skin, marking his territory, marking his man. He pulled his free hand between their flush bodies and sunk one finger into Steven's hole, still wet from Brendan's saliva, loving how tight he felt around him as he slowly pushed in and out.

"Bren….don't….I cant…oh fuck….Bren," his words were obscene, their effect on Brendan indescribable as he felt the boy come apart beneath him, the warm sticky fluid pouring over his hands, his muscles contracting against Brendan's finger inside him as he pulled it out.

Ste fell into the pillow, spent, undone by Brendan's relentlessness, but he wasn't going to let him be. Within seconds Brendan had flipped him back over onto his back and lay on top of him, chest to chest, resting in between Ste's legs. Brendan's hand still covered with the outpouring of Ste's orgasm, he took his hand south and started his assault again, sliding one finger back inside Ste's hole, then a second, lubing him up with his own come. The thought of it sent a shiver down Brendan's spine, _so fucking hot, _and he looked down at his boy.

They stared into each others eyes, a smile creeping over Brendan's lips as his fingers worked in and out rhythmically, Steven's body rising and falling beneath him in perfect time. He was looking back at him, that filthy look in his eyes, gasping for breath as Brendan worked him expertly. They mirrored each others glare – eyes, lips, eyes, lips, eyes, lips, eyes – before they both gave into the kiss together, tongues so familiar yet still finding so much to discover.

As they kissed, Brendan pulled his arms back and wrapped them under Ste's legs, pulling them up onto his shoulders - his strength and Steven's flexibility making the position easy to slot into, as always.

Ste suddenly felt a rush of panic wave over him as he felt Brendan pull his fingers out and push the head of his cock up against his slick wet hole – he was going in bareback.

They had _always _been careful – Brendan may have been a lot of things in the beginning but he was never stupid, hadn't even been an option to fuck without protection. Ste had always been the same, and even in his marriage to Doug they had never taken that step. But when they had come back from Dublin, after Brendan had moved into the flat and they found themselves spending more money on condoms than they did on basic food rations, and feeling the need to be as close and as intimate with each other as they could possibly have been, Ste's filthy mouth had blurted out mid-fuck, "Bren, I'd love to feel you inside me, like, properly _feel_ _you._"

Brendan had understood what he meant straight away, and they had discussed it sensibly the next morning – they knew there would never be anyone else, knew they both respected each other enough that they wouldn't let the other be in harms way, and that if they ever strayed they would prefer to know about it than risk being stupid. They had booked their appointment at the GUM clinic that day and before the week was out they had both been given the all clear.

They had barely been able to control themselves on the car ride back home, as soon as they walked through the door they had ripped each others clothes off and fucked on the kitchen floor. It had felt incredible, more mind blowing than either of them could have anticipated, they had felt like _one _more than they ever had before, and they had never bought condoms since.

Ste realised it hadn't crossed Brendan's mind that he would have been with someone else, and he desperately tried to push the image of George from the back of his mind. He tried to ignore how happy it made him to know that Brendan doing this, meant he definitely hadn't been with anyone else, which filled him with relief following the scene with Karl.

He didn't know what to do – could feel Brendan inching into him now – if he told him about George now, it would ruin everything. It would destroy this ecstasy they both found themselves in at having found each other again. He wasn't ready to give that up yet.

He knew he had been safe with George, and he had been a virgin, so he knew he couldn't have caught anything from him. He assured himself it would be fine, knew it was a little reckless, but Brendan was halfway inside him now and he was too far gone to care anymore. He put the thought to the back of his mind and looked up at his man.

Brendan lifted his head up from the dip of his neck where it had been resting, kissing Ste's neck. He looked into Ste's eyes as he pushed inside him, going in further with every thrust, feeling Ste tight against him, feeling his muscles constrict around his cock. He groaned out sensually with each thrust, looking into Steven's eyes and felt like the luckiest guy in the world.

He ran his fingers lightly down Steven's thigh as he took the last of his cock inside him, their bodies flush as they stared into each others eyes, their deep connection running through mind, body and soul. As much as he loved it rough, loved their passion and their carnal need for each other, loved the heated make up sex after an argument, Ste loved it most of all when Brendan was like this.

Gentle, intimate, savouring every inch of him – the two of them closer than anybody ever could be.

"I love ye, Steven," Brendan let out as he pumped slowly into him, his eyes fixed on Steven's, before he leant down to kiss him softly.

"I love you too, Bren," Ste replied sincerely, marvelling at the man between his legs, "Forever."

They kissed gently again, "Forever," Brendan replied.

He started to increase his pace, could feel the intensity of what they had just shared prompting his orgasm to rise inside him, never letting his eyes leave Steven's as he drilled into him again and again, letting his moans wash over him like a wave of pure indulgence. He marvelled at the way he fit into him so perfectly, the way the two of them together was just mind-blowing, the way Steven looked back at him, so delicate and vulnerable, yet taking his whole nine inches inside of him like he had the space carved out waiting for him.

His pace quickened, his senses heightening, the smell of sex filling the air – sweat and come and passion – grabbed at Stevens thighs desperately, sure he was leaving bruises, working his way down to Steven's cock and pulling on it desperately. Ste was crying his name out again now, his leg quivering as he stared back into Brendan's eyes and came a second time, spilling over his own stomach as Brendan leant in to devour his kiss. He felt Steven's muscles contracting around his cock and it tipped him over the edge, moaning Steven's name into his mouth as he felt himself come apart inside of his boy.

They lay there afterwards, wrapped in each others naked bodies, stunned into silence by the intensity of what they had just shared. It wasn't often that they _made love _like this – it was usually so frantic and needy, both too hungry for each other to think about the sentiment of the act they were carrying out, but it had felt so right tonight.

Brendan leant down and kissed the tip of Ste's nose lightly as he squeezed his arms a little tighter.

"Night, Steven," he whispered.

The sound of his boy breathing lightly in his arms told him he had already dropped off, and he let his eyes fall shut for the best nights sleep he had had in months.


	12. Chapter 12

**_Thanks for all your positive comments about the M chapter! I was worried it was going to be rubbish so I'm relieved that you liked it :)_**

**_Enjoy!_**

Chapter 12

Ste rolled over in his sleep and felt the sharp cold of the concrete prison walls against his naked bum, the shock of it pulling him out of his dozing state and forcing his eyes open. His gaze drank in the sight of Brendan sleeping peacefully next to him and he smiled, a satisfied, beaming smile, as he rolled back over and slotted back into the curves of Brendan's body. The warmth of Brendan as he spooned against Ste took away the discomfort of the prison wall within seconds.

He felt the tickle of Brendan's moustache against his neck as he stirred in his sleep, his lips pouting instinctively against Ste's neck and kissing as he nuzzled him, squeezing him even tighter in his arms.

Ste smiled to himself – he had missed this. He always loved it when Brendan was like this, first thing in the morning before he had fully woken up. His mind not fully alert yet but other parts of his anatomy not suffering the same fate - awake and standing to attention, digging into Ste's back.

Brendan was stirring now, his wandering hands starting to travel down Ste's body, checking all his favourite parts were still there. He always was horny as hell in the mornings – well, pretty much most of the day, actually – but especially so first thing, as if that part of him woke up before the rest of his body did.

As Brendan started to come round, he remembered how divine Steven had felt last night. A part of him felt as if he had been brought back to life, as if all the pain he had gone through had been shed, as if a new version of himself had been born. He wasn't going to take Steven for granted ever again.

They were both feeling more refreshed than ever, despite their bodies being bruised and aching as a result of their passionate reunion the night before. Brendan tightened his squeeze around Ste, feeling him stir against him, their naked bodies intertwined. He gazed in wonder at how delicate his Steven was, his long thick lashes blinking back the light as they peeled open, confusion etched over his face as he tried to remember where he was. Prison.

As Brendan looked at the beauty of his better half, took in his vulnerability and that delicate quality that Brendan just wanted to spend his life protecting, he was reminded of the stark contrast between him and his new surroundings. He didn't belong in here, incarcerated – he deserved to be free and to live his life to the full. He was too good for this place - and that seemed like the understatement of the century.

Brendan was feeling more and more uncomfortable with it as each second passed, and as Ste nuzzled into Brendan's neck, trying to be playful and affectionate, something within Brendan snapped and he jumped up out of the bed, grabbing his clothes from around the floor and dressing himself quickly.

Ste looked up at him in confusion, this eccentric man whose actions never failed to surprise him. Last night he had been so forgiving, so accepting, and Ste had hoped they were just going to glaze over the issue of him being in prison and just move on with it. This same guy that a few months ago in Dublin had poured his soul out to him on the Halfpenny Bridge; that had later told him his deepest darkest secrets about the abuse he suffered as a child at the hands of his father. He had let Ste know him, truly _know _him, like no-one ever had before. But now, he was running scared after one night back together, and Ste couldn't believe it was happening again.

He lifted himself up onto his arms to see what Brendan was doing, but on the realisation that he was having another of his freakouts Ste sighed loudly and let himself drop down onto the bed, too tired to argue with him, his body to jaded to fight back.

"What you doing, Bren?" he asked, his voice soft and sleepy, muffled against the bed sheet.

He got nothing in response and knew then that they were in trouble – that Brendan wasn't happy with him, as he ignored Ste and continued to tidy up the mess in his cell.

"Come on, Bren, talk to me," Ste pleaded, concerned, "_please._"

Brendan stopped, stood in the centre of the cell, fully dressed now, mouth firmly shut and head leaning back, looking up to the ceiling. He seemed exasperated.

"Why are ye here, Steven," it came out quietly, almost a whisper, and Ste wasn't sure whether he was meant to hear it or not, so he didn't respond. He thought the answer was obvious anyway.

Brendan had been waiting for an answer though, and when he didn't get one he turned to look at him, lying naked in his bed, no shame whatsoever. He walked across and sat at the foot of the bed, Ste bringing his legs up under the sheet to make room for him there.

"I just don't understand why you would do this?"

Ste was taken aback with the honesty behind Brendan's words, and felt the need to lighten the mood slightly.

"You telling me you haven't missed me?" Ste asked seductively, shifting closer to Brendan and walking his fingers up his arm playfully, one infront of the other until he reached his shoulder, then whispering into his ear, "You telling me you don't understand how I could keep away from you when you can do things like _that _to me?"

Brendan knew he was referring to the previous night, one of the rare occasions when they had actually _made love _instead of made passionate fucking to quench their never ending thirst for one another. He had still known what to do to him, which buttons to press, which parts to focus on – he wouldn't ever forget how to tune in Steven Hay perfectly.

But Brendan wasn't thinking about that now. All he could think about was that he had failed – all he had ever wanted was the best for Steven, he had only ever wanted to protect him, to keep him away from all of this – and now he was here, the opposite of where Brendan hoped he would be. He kicked himself, couldn't help but wonder if he should have just accepted those visiting orders, had never imagined that Steven would go this far to see him. This is the type of stupid thing Brendan would do to protect Steven, the lengths he was willing to go to _for him,, _not the other way around – he wasn't worth it.

"Stop it, Steven," Brendan snapped as the lad tried to kiss the back of his neck, flinching away from him, "I'm serious."

Ste sighed and sat back down, he knew this moment would come eventually, but he had hoped Brendan would let them stay in their blissful state of reunion for a few more hours at least.

"I can't believe you would be that…" _Not stupid_, Brendan scolded himself, _don't ever call him stupid_, "…that reckless, Steven. Why?"

"Does it really matter Bren?" Ste tried to dodge the argument, "I'm here now, we've got each other back again, can't we just enjoy – "

"No, Steven," Brendan interrupted, "How do you expect me to enjoy watching you in here? You're so much better than this, Steven."

Ste couldn't find the words to bite back, knew Brendan had to work this one out for himself – he had to work through his rage before he could come back to Ste.

"I can't believe that you would do this," he repeated, his voice raised and urgent, "Please tell me this is some sort of mistake, that you haven't done anything – " _don't say stupid – _"feckless. Please tell me you haven't done this for me."

"Course I did it for you," Ste replied, voice low and quiet as he looked to the ground, almost embarrassed to admit he had gone that far for a man who was now rejecting him.

The red mist had descended now for Brendan. Not in the way it had done before with Steven – not so that he would lash out. He was fighting that now, wanted to be able to promise that he would never hurt him in that way again. But he needed to shake some sense in the boy, needed to have it out with him, to make him know that he was not ok with this. It wasn't ok for him to be here.

Brendan stood up and paced around the room, arms flying around animatedly as he vented at Ste, "What about yer kids Steven? Little Leah and Lucas – you think they're gonna be proud of their Daddy? What about your business? Who's gonna keep that running whilst you're here? What happened to 'Littld Scally Ste, making good', hey?" His voice was ragged and desperate, his face contorted with the ferocity of the words as they escaped his mouth, "You can't give all of that up Steven – not for me, not for anyone! I'm not worth all of this, you know I'm not. You deserve so much better. You've got so much to live for out there Steven – so many people who care about you, so many people who love you out there. You don't need me, you – "

"Except I do need you, Brendan!" Ste shouted back, desperation in his voice, "I do! I tried living without you, and you know what, Brendan – it was shit. I hated you to begin with – like, properly hated you. More than I ever had before. More than I did even when you used to hit me – because you'd changed, you'd become the guy I always wanted you to be, and then you just dropped me, just left me there with these amazing memories, with all these promises about our future together. And I honestly believed that falling in love with you had ruined my life,"

"I did ruin your life – "

"But then I realised that was bullshit, Brendan," Ste hated how easily Brendan would agree with him when he said things like that, but never when he told him how important he was to him, "I know why you did it, and all I wanted to do was see you, just visit you, tell you I understood, that I loved you and that I was gonna be there for you – but you never let me in, did ya?" Ste paused to let his words sink in, could feel them settling around the room, "You just pushed me away – and that's what ruined me Brendan! That's what made me start drinking whiskey at 10 am; that's what made me give up on the business; that's what made me push Amy and Doug and Cheryl away; that's what led me here, led me to be as stupid as I always fucking am, thinking you'd be pleased to see me. All of that – that's because YOU gave up on US!"

His words stung, Brendan unable to cope with the thought that it was him who had pushed Steven to this place. After a while he spoke again, as if he had given himself the time to prepare what he needed to say, to get his point known to Ste.

"You're not stupid, Steven," he started - he had once made a vow to never let Steven think this about himself – before continuing, "I know it was hard on you, when I came here – "

"Hard on me!" Ste's voice was raised, frustrated, "Bren you have no idea – "

"Just let me finish, Steven!" Brendan bit back, "Just hear me out, ok?"

Ste sighed and reluctantly nodded, holding his hands out to Brendan as if to signal that he had the floor, it was his turn to speak, as they sat on the bed side by side, Brendan fully dressed and Ste completely naked, modesty covered with only the bed sheet.

"I know it was hard," Brendan started, voice low and gentle, his accent more pronounced than ever, "I know it was hard to see me in that hospital like that. And everything you said – you were wrong. I do know what love is – I know because you taught me, Steven. I only know what love is _because of you._ And it killed me to sit there and keep quiet as you said all those things," Brendan exhaled and turned to face Ste, "But I had to make you see – I'll always love you, Steven – but it has to end."

He raised an eyebrow to Ste to silence him, aware of him opening his mouth to speak, then closing it as he saw the look in Brendan's eye.

"I thought you understood all of this," Brendan continued, "I mean, ask yourself, how do you really think this is gonna work out? I know you're here now, but you can't be here forever. You're worth so much more than this. You're worth so much more than me, Steven."

"Don't say that, Bren," Ste's voice was calm now, reassuring, "Don't ever say that, or think that. Me and you," he gently raised his hand to Brendan's chin and pulled him up to stare into his eyes, "we're two halves of one whole. And I love you."

His words echoed around Brendan's head. He could say this a million times, and he may never be convinced it was true. Steven would always be too good for him. But he couldn't be mad at him anymore, not when he had said all of that to him, not when he knew the hell he had put Steven through.

His rage had somewhat dissipated after Steven's words, and he felt he couldn't be angry with the boy any more. As much as he needed him out of this place, he was here now and Brendan was going to have to get used to it, for the short term at least. He didn't need to push him away, not right now. Now, he just needed answers.

"You started drinking whiskey?" Brendan asked him, his voice attempting to sound playful, his eyebrow raised up at Ste.

"Yeah," Ste laughed back, "It was gross! Never liked it, only used to drink it to impress you anyway!"

"I know, I picked up on that."

"Nah, you didn't, I was proper good at pretending to be all into it."

"Steven – I can read you like a book, always could. You always hated it."

Ste laughed, busted, the tension between them lifting.

"Why'd you do it?" Brendan asked, simply.

Ste sighed, wanting to dodge the question but knowing they needed to have this conversation eventually.

"I was grabbing onto anything that reminded me of you," Ste started, a cutting sincerity in his voice as he spoke, "And I was pushing everyone away at the same time. You, in here, your whole life changed. But out there," he pointed towards the window, as if the village was the other side of that wall, "out there everything stayed the same. Everyone just carried on with it, as if nothing had happened, but my whole world had been turned upside down. And every day someone would come up to me – Tony, Jacqui, Cindy, anyone – asking how I was doing, saying that I was probably better off without you. I just wanted to lash out, block them all out, because they didn't have a clue. Everywhere I went, everything I did in that place – it all reminded me of you, and I just wanted something to stop it hurting so much."

Brendan was listening intently to everything Steven had to say, drinking in his honesty, desperate to know what had led him to become so desperate.

"I needed to see you, and every day you turned me away. Deep down I knew why, I understood, but I was so desperate for you."

"What did you do?" Brendan asked bluntly, needing to know how far he had gone.

"I didn't mean it first time," Ste replied, "I was drunk, Darren threw me out the pub, _again,_ and I just lost it. Don't know why, but I stole a car off the Dog car park and just drove. I was totally hammered, don't even remember what happened but I woke up in hospital with the cops outside my door and I knew I was in trouble. Everyone kept talking about me as if I weren't there, and Amy said something about prison. I was scared at first, at the thought of being sent here, but it hit me then that if I got sent down I would be with you."

Brendan released a sigh and looked down to the floor, his hands stressing the material of his trousers as he forced himself to keep quiet, to not snap at Ste as he filled him in on all the details of his trial and the subsequent outburst, and how Jim had arranged for him to give evidence at Brendan's trial once he had realised the depth of Ste's desperation.

Brendan saw Steven's point of view – he always had – but it was only now that he was sat in front of him, tears threatening to fall from his beautiful blue eyes, that it really hit home for Brendan exactly what he had done; how his sacrifice for Cheryl had almost destroyed Steven. He felt instantly guilty – an emotion he was yet to experience until now.

They sat together for a few moments, the atmosphere in the room thick with emotion, before Brendan leant in close to Steven and kissed him gently on the lips. Ste looked up into his playful blue eyes and kissed him back, a gentle peck again. Brendan wrapped his arms around his lovers neck and held him close, feeling his anger and uncertainty ebb away, replaced by nothing but love and gratitude. He wasn't happy that Steven was here; but he was happy that he was with him, and he decided to focus on that for now.

"Get some clothes on you shameless fecker," he teased as he pulled out of Ste's embrace, "I can hear them starting roll call on the end of the corridor already."

-s-

Brendan returned to his own cell and Ste sat waiting for Karl to come back in his place, having spent the night sleeping in Brendan's cell. He was eyeballing Ste as he walked through the door, something sinister in the way he glanced at Ste and looked him up and down, as if inspecting him for damage.

"Good night, was it?" Karl asked, bitterness laced through his tone.

"Erm, yeah," Ste felt a little embarrassed, sure his cheeks were flushing red, and more than a little concerned with Karl's tone, "You?"

He knew it was the wrong thing to say as soon as the word escaped his lips, confirmed by the look in Karl's eyes as he replied, "Oh, yeah, one of the best. Being the extra special prisoner he is, Brendan sure has the best room in this place."

"Really?" Ste asked, voiced pitched high with surprise, until he saw Karl expression and knew he was being sarcastic.

"No, Ste, it was fucking cold and horrible," Karl replied deadpan. "Hope you were nice and warm in here. With Brendan."

Ste chewed his bottom lip nervously. Since meeting him a few days ago, Ste had gone from liking Karl, to despising him, to feeling sorry for him, and now he just didn't know. He couldn't deny that in the past few days, when Brendan had been in solitary, he had started to feel thankful for his company once again. Now, he wondered if him and Brendan had taken things too far by asking Karl to spend the night in Brendan's cell whilst they stayed in here, especially with Karl's little crush.

"I'm sorry, Karl" Ste let out, almost defensively in response to Karl's anger rather than with any real meaning, "I'm sorry that you think I've come in here and stolen Brendan away from you, but it's not like that at all. You haven't got a clue about Brendan. You think you know him, but you don't know him at all. And you don't know me either. So don't come back in here being all arsey with me, yeah, cause you're jealous, when you don't know anything."

Karl was a little taken aback by this, his eyes widening even further as he thought about it, realising that maybe he needed to know a lot more about the two of them before he could come up with a plan for their demise. He needed answers, but couldn't help himself having another dig as he answered Ste back, "Well I'm sorry that you were pathetic enough to get yourself locked up back in here 'cause you were so desperate to get back with him. I mean, he's alright and that but he ain't worth all that, is he?"

Ste couldn't believe what he was hearing, instinctively darting over to Karl and standing above him, his face inches from Karl's as he pointed down at him, "Don't you EVER talk about him like that. You don't know shit, Karl."

Ste had stood over him for a few more seconds, threatening him with his eyes, before Karl had broken eye contact and shuffled back on his bed, retreating away from Ste. He needed to break this tension if he was going to get any details out of him.

After a few moments Ste returned to his side of the cell and started brushing his teeth, reluctant to rinse that taste of Brendan away but needing to do something to cut the tense atmosphere in the room.

"I had a good look through his things," Karl admitted out of the blue.

"You did what?" Ste spun around to face him, a look of disgust on his face.

"I found that picture of you that he keeps in his bible," Karl's tone was less fierce now, and he spoke as if chatting amongst mates, "Didn't realise it was a folded up piece of card – something from your wedding."

Ste spat the toothpaste out and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, putting his toothbrush back on the sink and looking at himself in the mirror, "And what?"

"The date said it was only November. Brendan came in here in March. So you could only have been together, what, a few months?"

Ste was suspicious of Karl now, wondering why he needed to know all of this, asking him outright, "Why is that any of your business?"

"It's not," Karl replied, keeping his tone conversational, "I'm just interested I guess. I know you said you had a husband but you just made out like you and Brendan had this massive history when you were actually marrying another guy a few months ago. Just doesn't make sense."

Ste couldn't help but laugh at this, at how little Karl knew about them. "Karl, I'm sure a lot of it wouldn't make sense to you if I told you. But that doesn't matter does it – it's nothing to do with you."

Karl shook his head, trying to stay as calm as possible and not bite back, answering calmly, "I'm only asking Ste, making conversation," before picking up his book and feigning interest in the words before him.

Ste had felt a pang of regret for snapping at him. He couldn't help but bite at anyone who tried to interfere with him and Brendan, or anyone who thought they knew what the two of them shared. Nobody but Ste and Brendan themselves could ever understand it fully, so everyone else should just leave them the hell alone as far as Ste was concerned.

Despite that, he knew that he didn't want to make an enemy out of Karl. They were cellmates, and would have to spend so much time together in here. Ste didn't really want to make things any more difficult for himself than they needed to be. Yeah, he hated that Karl had a thing for Brendan, but could he really blame him at the end of it? He had eyes at the end of the day. And it was Ste who Brendan was going to spend every night fucking, not Karl, so why should Ste feel threatened?

"I've known him, like, nearly three years," Ste started calmly, deciding to ease the intensity in the room a little by way of explanation, "It's been on and off, pretty much constantly. And yeah, I married someone else, but that was a mistake. It's complicated, Karl. I couldn't explain it to you even if I had all the time in the world, 'cause the words just ain't there."

Karl nodded, understanding that maybe this was something bigger than he could comprehend. He replied cautiously, because he needed to know this, "Did you get yourself locked up here on purpose? To be with him?"

Ste felt too embarrassed to reply and simply shrugged his shoulders then looked away, making the answer to Karl's question all too obvious.

"That's pretty fucked up," Karl announced, but his tone was more relaxed than derisory, "You must have it pretty bad."

Ste looked up at him and saw him smiling now, feeling relieved that they seemed to have found their way back to being friends, "You have no idea," he laughed back at him.

Karl stood up and held his hand out to Ste by way of apology, "Let's put all this behind us, yeah?"

Ste thought about it before taking Karl's hand in his own, "Yeah," he replied as he shook it, the two of them laughing until Karl turned away to sit back on his bed.

Ste noticed Karl's smile drop instantly and his eyes roll back as he turned, when he thought he was out of Ste's eye line, and he felt suddenly uneasy. He wasn't meant to see that – Karl didn't know that he had – and Ste couldn't help but feel that Karl hadn't meant a single word he had just said.

Ste make a decision then once and for all – Karl wasn't to be trusted.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Karl lay back on his bed and thought through everything he had gathered so far. He thought he had known everything there was to know about Brendan Brady before coming in here – he had researched it all thoroughly in the papers. He had a wife and two kids who lived back in Dublin. He had a sister, Cheryl, with whom he ran the nightclub in Hollyoaks village – Chez Chez. He was a bit of a livewire with an unpredictable streak.

And he was a murderer.

What he had just found out from Ste, however, and what he had come to realise about Brendan since being on the inside, was that he was a man of many secrets. One of which being the depth of his unconditional love for the little scally lad who he now had as a cellmate.

He had been thrown initially by Ste, by the impact he would have on his plans, but now he had to accept that he was here, and he was Brendan's priority. Maybe he could get to Brendan through Ste now? His original plan of getting close to Brendan by seducing him was obviously not going to work any more. He needed a plan B.

His mind raced with the possibilities as he lay in bed that night, realising he was maybe going to have to wait longer than he originally planned to make his move. He could live with that though – he would wait as long as it takes.

-s-

Once they had everything out in the open, they had settled quite easily into life together on the inside, finding a certain peace in each others presence amongst the discomfort of prison life, and they started to fall into some form of routine. The time had started to pass quite easily.

Sleeping in a single bed together had proven a challenge – there were limbs everywhere, each one sure that the other was taking up more than their fair share of the bed, the single sheet doing nothing to cover either of them, and Ste had almost given up at one point, thinking he may actually be able to sleep better _without _Brendan next to him for the first time.

Then one night, a few weeks down the line, once Brendan had come to terms with Ste's incarceration and had accepted this as their new routine, they had settled into each others arms and found true comfort for the first time. They both lay on their side, Brendan behind Ste, their bodies flush against each other all the way from their toes, to their slightly bent knees, their hips, Brendan's torso warm against Ste's back, his arm draped over his waist, fingers wrapped around Ste's forearm as he held him tight, and his face nuzzled into the back of Ste's neck.

They had slept like this nearly every night for three months, apart from those nights when their fiery tempers had gotten the better of them and Ste had sent Brendan back to his own cell to punish him for being all emotionally stunted, or Brendan had stormed back of his own accord, tired of Steven's sassy comebacks. They had always come back to each other, though - couldn't live without the others touch first thing in the morning, couldn't survive without each others' passion.

It had been surprisingly easy to get away with the bed hopping – most of the prison guards were fairly relaxed about Brendan swapping cells with Karl, and over time, Ste just sleeping in Brendan's cell. As long as they were both there, both present and could be ticked off the list at evening roll call, then the majority of the screws didn't bat an eyelid. There had been two exceptions, however - the hard nosed jobsworths, the ones whose power had clearly gone straight to their heads – who Brendan had tried to bribe but had his money thrown back at him. He had then tried to threaten them, but all he got in response was the throw of a baton across the top of his back. They knew now when these two guards were on duty that they would have to suck it up and be forced to spend the night apart, but this was only once every week or so, and they were both able to live with that, just about.

In the mornings Brendan would invariably rise before Ste did, and loved finding new ways to wake his boy up every day – anything from licking all the way down his back, to tickling the curve of his neck, to full on sordid sexual favours. They had often been nearly caught by the guards in rather compromising situations as they came round for cell inspection and roll call, but that wouldn't stop Brendan. He saw it as his bit of fun, trying to cut it as close as he could from finishing up their quickie to the guards unlocking the door. In fact, it was his favourite game - and most mornings, Brendan won.

Afterwards, Ste would watch Brendan getting dressed, taking in his strong, lithe body, his muscles working away, and he would take a minute to appreciate how lucky he was to have this man here to protect him. He thought briefly about Friendly Bob, and how he would have been completely at that mans mercy had Brendan not been here to stop him. Ste always was feisty – knew how to stand up for himself, and didn't need another man to do that for him. But that had felt different – he knew the kind of guys you needed protecting from in prison weren't the kind to be stopped with a few sassy comebacks, and he certainly didn't have the muscle to keep them at bay. So in here, he was thankful for the extra protection - although he would never admit that to Brendan.

The warden had come down hard on Brendan for his attack on Bob. He had been locked in solitary for 48 hours afterwards, but in addition he had most of his privileges removed. He was denied visitors and telephone calls for a month, not that this had any affect on Brendan whatsoever, and was demoted from his job in the laundry room to the lowest of the low – cleaning toilets. He wondered if that was payback for making Esther clean the Chez Chez loos with a toothbrush that once. He was sure he would have had extra time added to his sentence too, if he hadn't been on a triple life sentence as it stood anyway.

Nobody had seen or heard from Friendly Bob since the attack – not that he was missed around the ward by anyone. The guards had mentioned in passing about him being transferred to a special ward for disabled prisoners, and the rumour mill had thrived off stories from slipped discs to broken legs to paralysis and even amputations, however unlikely that was. Either way, he wouldn't be bothering them again.

Bob had not had many allies in this place, and Brendan hadn't feared any backlash from his attack. He had even been patted on the back a few times – it seemed everyone was relieved to see the back of him. But that hadn't stopped Brendan fearing the worst, that someone might find the need to take revenge against Brendan on Bob's behalf, and he needed to make sure that nobody would go after him through Steven again. So he told Steven right from the start that they had to keep the real nature of their relationship under wraps.

Brendan had warned Ste that he had a reputation to uphold in here - which Ste had been incredibly turned on by - and that he didn't want to rub their relationship in anybody's face. Sure, they could know they were sleeping together, but they had to think that that was it – that Ste was nothing more to Brendan than a piece of meat; a plaything.

Brendan didn't tell Ste that the real reason he wanted them to keep things quiet was to protect him. At the end of the day, love made him vulnerable, and if anyone knew exactly what Ste was to Brendan, that he would actually take a bullet to protect that boy, then they would know exactly where to go to hurt Brendan. He wasn't prepared to let anybody get to him through Steven again.

Ste hadn't minded all that much though. He had pouted initially and questioned Brendan's motives, but deep down the secrecy just further ignited the fire within his heart, fanned its flames so that when they did get to be together, he was ready to unleash all of his want and need all over Brendan.

They had agreed, if a little reluctantly, to stay away from each other during the daytime – they didn't need to be all over each other, didn't need to spend every moment next to each others side, because they both knew exactly how they felt about each other now.

They couldn't stop their eyes from watching each other though; would always find each other from across a room, their eyes locking and everything they needed to say to each other being said without a single word. With these two, language became almost redundant, their bodies in such fine tune that they understood exactly what the other was thinking with a single glace.

The time apart, the enforced absence in daylight hours, was almost equivalent to foreplay in their world – who needed mobile phones and sexting when they could catch the gaze of the one they loved across a room and let all of their sexual fantasies dance between them? It was a miracle that no one had cottoned on to them, what with the constant spark of electricity passing between their eyes. Daytime for Ste and Brendan was just one long prelude to how they planned to fuck each others brains out that night.

Brendan was well aware of the one person who did know their secret, however – Ste's ever present cellmate Karl. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something about that boy that Brendan didn't trust. He'd never discussed it with Ste, as he knew he was trying to force some kind of friendship out of their room-mate status, but he was keeping tracks on him for sure. There was something in the way he spent a little too long watching the pair of them; something in that curiosity he always showed towards their relationship; something about the strange way he had acted when Steven had first arrived here, almost like a jealous lover. He didn't know what it was yet, but it was definitely something, and Brendan planned to get to the bottom of it, no matter what.

Regardless, Ste and Brendan had carried on like that together for months – waking together each morning, a quickie to kick start the day, Ste skulking off and the pair of them carrying on with their day separately, their eyes constantly searching for each other at any given opportunity throughout the day. They would come back to each other every night, get their fix of each other – sometimes languid and sensual; most times rough and passionate - and then they would fall asleep in each others arms.

It wasn't perfect, but it was the closest they would get to that on the inside. It worked - or it worked for now, at least.

-s-

Karl had spent the majority of the past 3 months formulating a plan in his mind. Him and Ste had remained on good terms, and despite all of his reluctance, he actually started to like the lad. He was honest and he was fearless, had a backbone and was stronger than he looked. Karl supposed he must have had something about him from the start, to be able to tie down a man like Brendan Brady.

His affection for Ste, in a purely platonic way, led him to decide against including him in his plans. His problem wasn't with Ste, it was with Brendan, and it wouldn't be fair on him to take revenge on him too, when Ste had done nothing wrong.

He wasn't against using Ste though - using their friendship to get closer to Brendan, to try to gain the trust that he knew Brendan didn't have in him. He would sometimes catch him looking from the corner of his eye, could tell from his steely glare that he hadn't been fooled completely by his act like Ste had been. He had waited patiently over the past few months for Brendan to trust him again, and he hoped that by now it had paid off. By now, it was time to get the ball rolling on the beginning of the end of Brendan Brady.

-s-

Brendan was well aware that all good things must come to an end, and it was one day in September that his world was pulled away from underneath his feet.

Ste and Brendan had been forced to spend the night before apart, as their least favourite guard had been on roll call duty the previous evening. Brendan was aching for Ste's touch when he woke up the next morning, and he sauntered down to breakfast as early as possible, sitting at his table all alone, Ste's usual seat in his direct eyeline. As soon as he had strolled into the canteen Brendan had felt his presence without even looking in his direction, as if the time spent apart had heightened their awareness of each other.

Out of the corner of his eye Brendan saw Ste sit down, then let his eyes travel up to meet him, a glint in his eye as he expected their usual heated exchange to commence. When he looked up, however, Ste wasn't looking at him; seemed to be avoiding eye contact with him all together. Brendan felt uneasy, as if he knew this day would come when Ste would lose interest, sure that day had now arrived and that Ste had probably found someone else to spend his time with. Whoever it was, Brendan was plotting their demise already.

His eyes burnt into the top of Ste's head, urging him to come back to him. Ste looked up cautiously, as if to do so was causing him pain. It made no sense to Brendan – he usually looked forward to their daily eye fucking across the canteen, the intensity of it their secret that no-one else in here would know. Where had that gone now?

Brendan had watched Ste slink away quickly when he was finished with his porridge – trying to avoid Brendan as he left, but all the time aware of his eyes on him, watching his every move.

When he returned to his cell it was literally seconds before Brendan walked in after him, realising they were alone and closing the cell door behind them.

"What's going on, Steven," Brendan asked, cautious but desperate. He wanted to lean in for his morning kiss but felt as if he couldn't, as if all the signs were telling him something was wrong.

Ste sighed heavily, leant over to the table at the end of his bed to grab two envelopes, then sat down on the bed as he looked up at Brendan, motioning with his eyes for Brendan to sit down next to him. He obeyed, sitting further from him than he usually would, not wanting to invade Steven's personal space.

Ste handed him the first envelope.

"This one, you're gonna like," Ste announced as Brendan took it from him, noticing the large brown envelope had the prison's postal address on the front, and that it had been stamped and date marked. It had come from outside of the prison, and this piqued Brendan's interest.

He took the papers out of the envelope and slowly turned them over, glancing across the page quickly. He read the words at the top of the page and felt a wave of uncertainty flash over him. It read:

DISSOLUTION OF CIVIL PARTNERSHIP

STEVEN HAY and DOUGLAS CARTER

"You're divorced?" Brendan asked simply, trying to read into Ste's reaction.

"Officially." Ste replied, chewing on his lower lip as he always did when he was unsure how Brendan would react. He knew this would make him happy, deep down, but wasn't sure if he should have mentioned it, if he should have reminded Brendan of the fact that up until today he had actually been married to another man.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Brendan reading through the paperwork to make sure this piece of paper was final – that Steven was his and only his from now on.

He looked back to Ste when he had finished, worry in his eyes.

"How do you feel about it?"

Ste was confused by his concern, replying with a smile, "Well, I knew it were coming, didn't I? I'm with you now, ain't I, so it's all sorted now 'int it."

"It's ok…" Brendan shook his head as he placed his hand against Ste's thigh, "to feel something. To feel sad about it. You married the guy – that's a big thing. It's only natural to feel a bit weird about it being over, Steven."

Ste hadn't expected this reaction – he had envisaged a deep victorious laugh, a puffing out of the chest to show his alpha male status, a few digging remarks about young Douglas being the warm up act for the real thing. He hadn't expected this…this…empathy from him.

"I've been there, Steven," he continued, clocking the shock in Steven's expression, "I know what it's like. Yeah, you didn't love Douglas just like I didn't love Eileen – not like that anyway, not like you should love someone in a marriage – but he was a big part of your life, and it's always gonna be a bit, I don't know, a bit sad, to say goodbye to that."

Ste was nodding, a smile creeping over his lips as he felt all of a sudden grateful for Brendan's understanding. He had felt a bit weird when he read the letter, but had then felt guilty, as if to mourn the break up of his marriage was tantamount to him cheating on Brendan. It reassured him to know that Brendan understood, and that he wasn't going to judge him for reacting like this.

He leant over and gave Brendan a quick kiss on his lips, his arms reaching up for a quick hug as he whispered a _thank you _into Brendan's ear.

When he pulled back, Brendan's expression had reverted back to one of concern, his eyes travelling down to the second envelope in Ste's hand. This envelope was different – no postage stamp, no full address, just the name_ STEVEN HAY _written across it. This was sent internally – it came from within the prison.

"This one," Ste sighed as he handed it over to Brendan reluctantly, "You're really not gonna like."

Brendan paused before opening it, looking up at Ste and the sadness which clouded his eyes, his teeth chewing anxiously on his bottom lip again - he was nervous. Brendan knew that what was in this envelope was about to tear his world apart, he could sense it, and he leant over to place a long, lingering kiss on Ste's lips whilst still in his blissfully ignorant state – just in case he couldn't do that again after reading this.

He was holding the letter open in his hands, the words facing upwards and waiting to be read, but Brendan held his gaze against Steven's for a little while longer. He wanted to hold onto this moment for as long as he could.

He looked down eventually and read the letter, slowly and carefully.

_Dear Mr Hay,_

_We are writing to advise that your custodial sentence is to be reduced to the duration of 3 months, and that you will carry out the remainder of your sentence outside of HMP LONGMERE and on licence._

_The date for your release has been set for Tuesday 17__th__ September 2013…_

Next week.

Brendan felt his world collapse around him, the floor being swept away beneath his feet, like he was losing his grip on reality. Steven was leaving him. This rose-tinted world they had been living in for the past three months, where they both knew they had fucked up but it didn't matter, because they were together – this world was being ripped away from them again. They were right back where they started, Brendan locked away with no hope of freedom until Ste's better days were well and truly past him. He would go back to him then, of course he would, he would love Steven until the day he died; but could he ask Steven to wait that long for him again?

They had been on and off more times that a barmaids knickers, or even Steven's boxer shorts, but each time they came back together, they came back stronger, with more meaning than before. And this time it had been no different. When they were pulled apart by circumstance 6 months ago, after that fateful night in Chez Chez, Brendan had truly thought that was it – that they could never be together again. But Ste had gone that extra mile for him, had taken it to the next level – he had been reckless and irresponsible, but it had been one hell of a strong gesture. He had given up everything he knew – his life, his reputation, his future, his freedom – and he had done it all for the slightest chance of being back with Brendan.

Their love had felt stronger than ever, like they finally, _finally, _understood each other now. Brendan had no secrets from Ste any more, he had opened his soul to him like he never had to anyone else. Brendan had never thought himself worthy of Steven's love, had always seen himself as a pauper to his prince, that he could never give the boy what he deserved. He was a freak, a monster, damaged goods. But he had let Steven in – he had exposed every inch of himself to the man he loved – and he had felt nothing but unconditional love in return. Steven had made him strong, had made him proud – he had made him human again.

And now he was having to let him go, to turn him away again, and he knew it was going to kill him. Steven had brought him back to life in here, but now he had to leave – had to get his own life back on track whilst he still had the chance. Surely, there had to be another way?

"What do I need to do?" Steven's words broke through the haze which had descended over Brendan's thoughts.

"What do you mean?" Brendan replied.

"Well, what do I need to do so they don't let me out?"

Brendan looked up at him; surely he couldn't be serious.

"Are ye kidding me, Steven?" his voice full of anguish.

"Well I can't leave you, can I? Not now," Steven spoke as if it was the most natural thing in the world to keep yourself locked up in prison, to devote your life to incarceration in order to be close to the murderer that you love.

"You gotta leave, Steven," Brendan pleaded, his voice cracking as he spoke, not being able to feign his indifference this time, not able to be strong to make it easier for Steven - not after the mutual understanding they now had for each other; not after they had spent the last 3 months in perfect synchronicity. "You gotta live your life Steven."

"Agh, not this again, Bren, please," Ste groaned in reply, "Didn't you see what being away from you did to me last time?"

It was like déjà vu, the same catch-22 they had found themselves in all those months ago at Brendan's appeal. Brendan wanted Ste to be safe and to be happy, and he couldn't guarantee that if he remained in his life, especially if Ste was wasting his life on the inside with him, Ste, however, couldn't see a life without Brendan – knew he could never be truly happy, never be truly secure without that man by his side, and his life wasn't even worth living if it was without him.

They sat together in silence, Brendan making the first move by holding his arms out and edging closer to Ste, folding his arms around him and squeezing him tight, feeling Ste's arms close in on him too. He felt Ste's body vibrate slowly, gentle sobs flowing out of him as he collapsed into Brendan's safe embrace.

They sat there holding each other for what seemed an eternity.

Ste was the first to pull back, looking up into Brendan's distinguished blue eyes, noting they were sparkling more than usual, the threat of tears clear for Ste to see. He himself was sobbing, tracks down his cheeks from the sadness which clouded his mind.

"There's gotta be something, Bren," Ste begged.

Brendan couldn't answer him. He couldn't lie.

Ste's breathing was ragged, strained against his tears, "We could tell them about Cheryl – "

"What?" Brendan dismissed the thought immediately, "Are ye mad, Steven? That would just get us into even more shit, wouldn't help us in any way."

Ste knew he was right but he was desperate, "Well then we need to tell them about your Dad –"

"No chance." Brendan's reply was blunt.

"Well you can appeal again, and this time you can be more helpful an that – "

"That's not how the legal system works, Steven. Being helpful is irrelevant, besides I've appealed it once and they weren't interested."

"But, surely," Ste was desperate now, "Surely if they knew all of it, and if they heard it from you and not me, they would change their mind –"

"They're making an example out of me Steven – they're making their point. They caught Brendan Brady and they put him away for life. I bet some fucker got a promotion out of that. They're not gonna just overturn my conviction."

"But you've changed –"

"Yeah, yeah I have Steven, but you only know that because you know _me. _You know me like no-one else does. You see me differently to how they do. Other people, they only _think _they know me, and what they think they know is that I'm bad news, and a leopard never changes its spots." Brendan sighed as he finished making his point, "There's no way they will ever go easy on me, Steven."

"Well then," Ste conceded defeat, "I'll have to do something, then, I'll go smash up the library or the classroom or summat, get my sentence extended – "

"You'll do no such thing, Steven," Brendan felt like a teacher telling off one of his pupils – he didn't enjoy Steven when he was behaving like a petulant child, "The best thing you can do is just forget about me and move on."

"Are you for real?" Ste's voice was raised, volume increasing with every breath he took, "I can't leave you, Bren, not ever. We've got to work something out, surely. I'd do anything to be able to be with you, Bren. I'd break you out of here, I'd spend my entire life just running with you by my side and never looking back. I'm serious, Bren! I would risk it all, and I'd risk it for you."

Brendan reached his arms around his boy, took his weight as he collapsed into him, holding him tightly as he continued sobbing away against Brendan's chest. Brendan fixed his gaze through the windows of the cell, out to the world beyond it. Something Ste had just said had lit a fire within him, could feel the cogs turning slowly as things started to fit into place – the bare bones of a plan starting to form.

He squeezed him even tighter as he felt an unfamiliar emotion starting to bubble under the surface. He had almost given up on it, but against all the odds, it had come back to him when he needed it most – Hope.

-s-

Later that evening, as they were drifting off to sleep in each others arms, Brendan whispered into Ste's ear, "Did you mean it?"

Ste was half asleep, lazily replying with a muffled sound which Brendan interpreted as a _Mean what?_

"That you'd run." Brendan asked gently, "That you'd run with me, and never look back."

Ste stirred, Brendan's words causing him to feel awake all of a sudden, as he turned over to look into Brendan's eyes.

"Of course I meant it," Ste replied with candour, "I meant every word."

Brendan paused, drinking in the sight of his boy, in awe of his beauty.

"Then let's do it."


	14. Chapter 14

_**Thank you all again for the reviews/follows and to all of you for reading – it's amazed me how much you're enjoying this and I LOVE reading your lovely words :)**_

_**I thought the idea of them on the run together would please you! This is just all based on my little fantasy about how I would love things to have turned out between them. **_

_**Enjoy :)**_

Chapter 14

"Are you serious?" Ste was all of a sudden wide awake and sitting bolt upright in the bed, eyes assessing Brendan's face as if he was waiting for the punchline.

"I am if you are," Brendan answered back, the sincerity of his words hitting Ste squarely in the chest.

"Well…ho…wh…" Ste was lost for words, for once in his life – so many questions spinning around his mind, didn't even know if any of it would be possible. His eyes danced around, looking at Brendan then down at his lap, and his breathing had become sharp and erratic. It was a heady mixture of excitement, apprehension and disbelief.

Brendan drank in his reaction, was reminded of one of the reasons he loved Steven so much. He was always completely honest in his reactions – he truly did wear his heart on his sleeve. They would never have to worry about being one of those couples that are always unsure what the other was really thinking – with Steven, he couldn't not know how he felt. And he was pretty sure the suggestion was filling him with hope and excitement, just as it did him too.

Brendan reached out and pulled Steven's face towards him, planting a strong, powerful kiss against his lips. He wasn't sure what he was trying to say to Steven with this kiss – it wasn't a _please let me fuck you _kiss; it wasn't a _please don't ever leave me _kiss; and it certainly wasn't a _please look after yourself when I'm not there _kiss. It was a _let's stay with each other no matter what _kiss – full of hope and excitement. And it was perfect.

Ste pulled away first, and he spoke with conviction in his voice, "How is this even gonna work then, Bren?"

He had had little time to conjure up a real plan, but the bare bones had started to form, and he wanted Steven to know everything. He wasn't going to hide any of the details from him.

"Well, you're outta here next week Steven, so you can take care of things on the outside, yeah?" He looked up to Ste and waited for his nod of acceptance before continuing, "You gotta sort out the money, you gotta get a car, change the plates, pack everything up," he was drinking in Brendan's words, as if he was in awe of his man.

This is what Brendan did best – plotting some underhand move – and Ste was feeling privileged to be on the inside of one of his plans; to be able to see the master, _his master, _at work.

"There's a guy you'll need to meet, he'll sort you out with a few things – we'll need new passports, new names – "

"Can we go to Dublin?" Ste interrupted, as if the idea had just popped into his mind and he couldn't not ask the question.

"Dublin?" Brendan questioned, although he knew Steven's reasons.

"Yeah," Ste responded, "Then we can spend the rest of our lives together in the city where we fell in love." His tone had gone all soft and his face all dreamy, a smirk covering his lips as held his hands up to the sky, as if picturing some romantic scene before him.

"Oh yeah," Brendan smirked back, "Well I don't know about you Steven but I fell in love with you a hell of a long time before Dublin."

Ste looked at him and beamed, as if he didn't know this already, "Awwww, me too," he leant over and placed a chaste kiss on his lips before looking into his eyes playfully, "and you know it."

Brendan laughed and kissed him again, then flung his arms around his neck and pulled him down towards the bed. It wasn't sexual, for once – it was playful, loving. It was a coupley thing. Ste leant against him, sitting in between his legs and resting his head back against Brendan's chest, stroking the hairs on his forearms as Brendan's strong biceps embraced him in their safety; his hands lying flat against Ste's chest.

"We can't go to Dublin," Brendan's words were like pin bursting Ste's bubble, and he couldn't see Ste's face, but he knew he would be looking a lot like a lost puppy right now. "Not because I don't want to," Brendan continued by way of explanation, "And not because it wouldn't be the perfect place to spend my life with you, Steven. Because it would. But it's just too…I don't know. It'd be the first place they'd look for us. It's too close."

Ste sat up again and turned round to face Brendan. He was pouting, but Brendan was sure by now that Ste knew the full effect that protruding bottom lip had over him, and that Steven was doing this now in an attempt to get his own way.

"I'm not arguing with you about this Steven," he warned, "If we're gonna do this, we can't make any mistakes – going to Dublin, we would end up getting caught, and if we get that far I'm never gonna be able to live without you."

Ste considered this quietly, before nodding and breathing out a disappointed "Ok."

"Hey," Brendan needed to make him smile again, "It ain't gonna be easy, and you'll be leaving everyone behind. But it'll be just you and me and some amazing new place, and we'll have the future you always dreamt of, Steven."

It did the trick – his eyes brightened again and his lips twitched upwards as he sassed back at him, "Don't pretend you haven't always dreamt of it too, Brendan," his accent thick and pronounced.

Sometimes Brendan thought he could feel his insides melting at the sound of his name on Steven's tongue – _Brendunnn_ – took his filthy mind right back to each and every time they had fucked and the lad had screamed his name in that way at the top of his lungs. He couldn't help but kiss him deeply in that moment, his tongue searching for the sound of his own name inside of Steven's mouth.

When Ste pulled away, it was because he knew there was one part of the plan that they hadn't thought about, and he was almost too afraid to ask the question, in case up until now it had all been some pipe dream.

"How you gonna get out of here, Bren?" His tone was submissive, as if he had given up hope on the answer already. Surely if Brendan could break out of here, he would have done it already, wouldn't he?

Brendan paused before considering his answer – this question the one which had whirred around his head constantly since Steven planted the seed of this idea into his mind this morning. Never mind all the talk of where they would head or how they would get away from here – what really mattered was that Brendan had to escape from prison. And that was certainly the hardest part.

"I know a guy," Brendan started, cautiously, keeping his voice down low in case anyone decided to interrupt, "I knew him a while back, used to always say he had _contacts _on the inside, if I ever needed them. He used to have this system, a way of getting vodka in here using bleach bottles. He always used to drop hints about having the guards here in his pocket, and that if he needed them to not see something, they wouldn't see it."

Ste was drinking this all in, in awe of how brave this man was that loved him.

"I'll need to talk to him," Brendan continued, "see what he can get away with, but I'm thinking I'll swap jobs with one of the lads on the deliveries bay and pretend to hold the guy hostage or something whilst I slink out in his delivery van – they could literally open the gates for me to leave."

Ste was looking back at him strangely now – a look he couldn't quite decipher, which he found unnerving in itself. It was part understanding, part – what was that – anger? Disappointment? Was his plan really that bad? Sure it needed fine tuning, but it was the beginning of a plan nonetheless.

"What is it Steven?" Brendan was forced to ask when his expression only darkened.

He was met with a wall of silence, Ste only shaking his head as Brendan grabbed onto his elbow, trying to turn him back to face him.

"Talk to me," Brendan begged, shamelessly.

"I just don't understand," Ste's voice was weak and unsure, as if he knew what he was about to say was petulant, but he couldn't not ask the question now the thought was in his head, "If you had this big plan to get out of here, if you had _contacts _and you knew how easy it would be, why the HELL didn't you think of this earlier? Why put me through all that on the outside when you could have just gone and spoke to your mates and sorted it all out, broken out of here and come back to me?"

Brendan picked up on the betrayal in his tone, bitterness as the memories of those broken few months lay heavy in his heart.

"Steven," Brendan tried to explain, "Steven it's not like I've always had this plan," he reached out towards his boy, placing his hands either side of his face, his fingers curling into the collar of his top and along his neck. He looked him dead in the eye, pulling him close so their foreheads rested against each other. Ste had to know that this was serious.

"I want you to know," Brendan started, cautious, voice low but his words strong, "You need to know that if there was anything I thought I could have done back then, I would have done it. Leaving you behind – it nearly killed me. I was dead inside without you, Steven, But its not as if its that easy. This ain't gonna be easy, Steven. I don't want you thinking we are definitely gonna pull this off. There's a real chance that we fuck it all up – I need you to know that."

He paused as their eyes remained locked together, as if Ste was letting the gravity of this situation finally sink in. Brendan kissed him, slow, languid and sensual, feeling Ste's mouth part slightly to let his tongue in, swiping it along his bottom lip but pulling back before he lost all sense of where he was and what he needed this boy to get his head around.

"You do know that, don't you?" Brendan questioned Ste, needing him to understand this.

He nodded weakly in response, letting out a quiet, "Yeh," to confirm it.

Brendan nodded back at him, as if he was encouraging him to stay strong.

"This is all or nothing, Steven. All or nothing. If we pull it off, we have it all – we have each other and we run, we never look back – it's you and me and its forever."

Ste was smiling at him now, but Brendan needed him to accept the risk they were taking.

"But if we don't….if it doesn't work – that's it. I will _never _be let out of here. You…you've – "

"Don't say it, Bren," Ste interrupted, didn't want to hear him say those words ever again – _you've gotta move on with your life_.

"Ok," Brendan nodded, "But you gotta realise, too – the guards at the prison gates, you remember seeing them on the way in?"

"Yeah," Ste replied, intrigued.

"You notice they were armed?"

Ste's eyes opened wide in response, suddenly getting his meaning. He began to shake his head violently.

"They're armed for a reason, Steven," Brendan moved his hands down to Ste's shoulder, holding him steady as he began to shake, could hear _no, no, no, no, no _escaping under his breath as Brendan tried to steady him.

"What if they….No, Brendan, maybe we shouldn't…"

Brendan shushed him and pulled him into his embrace, finding strength in each others arms. They weren't backing out, not now the idea was racing through both of their minds – not now he had pictured them running off into the sunset together as they never looked back. They were doing this, no matter what the risks, they would be worth it.

"Yeah, we should, Steven," Brendan whispered into his ear, "We're doing this – I don't care what risks we have to take – me and you together, properly, I'll do anything to get us there. I promise."

He felt Ste's head nodding against his chest, knew he wasn't giving up on that dream either, not now he'd pictured it. Brendan couldn't help thinking to himself that if they screwed up, if he couldn't have Steven, if they got caught and something happened - then he was better off dead anyway.

-s-

Karl had been more that a little perturbed at their sudden public displays of affection. He hadn't felt _jealousy _as such, not at them being together at least, but he had felt a bitterness in the pit of his stomach. How come Brendan Brady got to be happy? After everything he had done – all those people he had killed – why did he get to walk around with a smile on his face, acting like the cat that got the cream?

He intended to put an end to that. And he couldn't wait to see the look in his eyes when he did.

He just needed to get Ste out of the way first. He had grown to quite like Ste, regardless of his complete loyalty to Brendan. He had been a good cellmate – he was always funny and talkative, and kept Karl amused for hours on end, playing away on their Xbox or making jokes about the staff at the prison. He knew Ste was a little unsure of him – sometimes he would catch his eye as it sized him up and down, or see the façade drop from Ste's face when he thought he couldn't see. But overall, he liked the guy, and he didn't want him involved.

When Ste had returned to their cell and announced that he had his release date set for the following week, Karl knew it was time for him to put his plan into action. He would wait for Ste to leave – he didn't want him involved. Karl wasn't as callous as his Dad had been, he couldn't just disregard Ste as collateral damage like he had done. Sometimes he hated that he wasn't as cut throat as his Dad was, but he knew he couldn't change that, and he knew that he couldn't carry out his mission whilst Ste was still here.

So he had decided – once Ste was out of the picture, Brendan Brady better watch his back.

-s-

They had spent their last week together - always together; constantly within arms reach of each other – no more trying to hide anything away from anyone. Brendan didn't care who knew anymore – Ste had only a matter of days with him now and he was pretty sure nobody had an axe to grind against him right now. There was also no way he was going to waste a single second of what they had left together – what could realistically be the last time they ever saw each other.

Ste sat on Brendan's table for breakfast, lunch and dinner; they would exercise together in the yard; they would sleep together at night and shower together in the mornings. Barely a minute went by when they weren't constantly at each others side. And it made the idea of Steven not being there any longer all the more unbearable.

A part of Brendan had found it strangely calming, however, to think that Steven was getting out of here – getting away from all the shit that went on in here. He didn't want him to go, was going to miss him every single day, but the thought that in a few weeks time he could be on the outside with him, planning their future together – it got him through the sadness.

Brendan had toyed with the idea of weaning himself off the boy – lowering his dosage each day so that when the day came when he wasn't here any more, the loss wouldn't feel so achingly painful in the pit of his stomach.

He had decided against that, though, and had spent the past week devouring him each and every second of the day, vowing that he would just have to deal with the effects of cold turkey once the boy was here no more.

They had woken up together on their final morning in their usual spooning position, as Brendan nuzzled the back of Ste's neck to wake him gently. They hadn't slept much all night, wanting to make the most of their final night together, and they were reluctant to leave the warmth of the others naked body. They got up and dressed for roll call and cell inspection, but returned straight to bed afterwards, where they spent the morning as they had spent the night before – bringing their bodies together as one.

They had started off passionate and carnal – hungry for each other in the same way they always were; needing to feel each others desire emanating from every pore. Then, as each of them had found their release and they had worked themselves up again, the second time around they were more sensual, taking the time to explore each others bodies as if they were discovering each other for the first time all over again. They made love, in the way that made the hairs on the back of Brendan's neck stand on end, and made Ste's toes curl up as Brendan came inside him. It was intimacy at its highest level, and neither of them wanted to ever let go.

They both knew they had to, though, and an hour later they found themselves in Ste's cell, waiting for time to be called on their time together inside HMP Longmere.

"I don't want to leave you, Bren," Ste admitted, his voice breaking as the words left him, "I don't…what if – "

"Don't," Brendan cut him off, knew exactly what he was thinking, because it was the niggling thought that he couldn't get out from the back of his mind.

What if this is the last time I see him? What if the plan doesn't work, and I'm left in here to rot without him; or if I'm shot and killed whilst trying to escape?

Brendan walked towards Ste and took him in his arms, embracing him tightly, never wanting to let go. He squeezed him tighter than ever before, wishing he could do something to make sure this lad understood exactly how he felt about him. He needed Ste to know how much he loved him, but the word _love _just didn't seem strong enough. As if the love that every couple shared was the same as _their _love. It wasn't. It couldn't compare. Theirs was a life-altering, never-ending, soul-crippling kind of love, that neither of them had ever had any control over. He just couldn't put it in the right words to tell Steven how he felt – but somehow, he knew he didn't need to. He saw the way his beautiful boy was looking back at him now, and he knew – he was searching for the words just like Brendan was.

"If there's one thing you've gotta know Steven – and please tell me you _know _this, with all of your heart – its that I Love You. Ok?"

Ste nodded, tears already rolling down his cheeks, his voice making no sound as he opened his mouth to talk, but Brendan knew what he would be saying if he could.

Instead of waiting for the words that Steven couldn't speak right now, Brendan simply held him in his arms, swaying gently from side to side as he comforted his boy.

All too quickly, the cell door was being opened, and the guards had appeared to take Ste down to the checking room before he was released. He pulled away from Brendan, looked deep into his eyes, and kissed him. Passionately, deeply, longingly, sensually. It was the kiss to end all kisses – so much emotion behind it, so much power and feeling. The guards felt almost embarrassed to be witness to such a display, one of them coughing loudly to bring them back to the real world.

And with that, Steven turned to walk away from Brendan, and out of this prison for good.

As he left the room, he turned back and mouthed the words to Brendan that he couldn't speak seconds earlier. _I Love You._

-s-

Three days later, Ste paced anxiously around the waiting room, the all too familiar déjà vu creeping over his bones as he thought back to all those times, day after day for weeks on end, when he would come here and pray for Brendan to give in. He dreaded to think how many hours he had wasted in this room, and now looking at the clock, he started to see history repeating itself.

The door to his left opened as a guard walked through, announcing, "Visitors for Brendan Brady?"

Ste's tension flooded away as he sighed out, found it replaced with excitement. It had been three days and he was seriously starting to miss his man – even if he had been busy making plans since he left him.

Ste walked through the door and held it open for the other man that he had come here with today, who followed him in his suit and briefcase. Ste had noticed straight away how this man in his expensive suit didn't even come close to how sexy his man looked in such attire. The thought of seeing Brendan in that suit again made his stomach flutter and his palms feel sweaty, and he reminded himself to make sure at least one of those suits was packed away to take on their adventure.

Ste and this man sat down on one of the tables and he got busy sorting through the papers in his briefcase. Ste looked around the room, catching the eyes of some of the inmates he recognised, some looking surprised to see him, others just nodding a friendly greeting. He had been in this room a couple of times before, as a prisoner, but not often. Amy had been to see him a few times, and Doug had come along with Jim to sort out their divorce. It still wasn't a familiar place to him though.

As his eyes scanned around the room they landed on something extremely familiar indeed – Brendan. He let his eyes travel up his body, licking his lips as he thought about how well he knew this man – knew every inch of his body beneath those clothes, had kissed and licked every inch of his skin. His cheeks flushed red as he thought back to the last night they had been together – how it had been rough and passionate the first time, then slow and intimate the second, and the third, and the fourth. He hadn't slept at all that night, hadn't even wanted to, had spent the whole time being fucked by the man he loved, and he felt himself hardening at the thought of it.

As Brendan sauntered over, he locked his gaze into his eyes, and thought then that it wasn't just this mans body he knew so well. He knew his mind, how it worked. And he knew his soul. He knew everything that made this man tick – knew all his secrets, all his flaws, all his vulnerabilities. It wasn't possible to be closer to another human being as Brendan was to Ste.

As he approached the table he leant down and kissed Ste on the lips – short, chaste, but everything that needed to be said.

The man sitting next to Ste cleared his throat as Brendan pulled away and sat down, throwing Ste a cheeky wink before he turned his attention to the man beside him. Ste had met him before, and knew him as the guy who dealt with all of Brendan's money – he had been there when Brendan signed the deli over to Ste the previous summer.

"I have all the papers you requested, Mr Brady," the man was serious, professional, to the point – probably exactly why Brendan employed him.

"Good man," Brendan replied, "Where do I need to sign?"

The man seemed more than a little concerned and hesitated before voicing his doubts.

"I should remind you that these papers, once they are signed they are legally binding. Everything detailed in these sections here," he pointed out the significant paragraphs on the page, "and here – these will all become the property of Mr Hay once you have both signed these documents."

Brendan nodded along as he took the papers and skimmed over them. He was relaxed, indifferent – he didn't look like a man who was about to sign his whole life's work over to another person.

"I understand your predicament with being in here, Mr Brady, but I am urged to advise that you will have no legal right to any of this property once this document is signed. In thirty years you will be released and this leaves you with minimal capital worth for use on your release. I would advise you consider this carefully before signi – "

The man found himself cut off as Brendan snatched the pen out of his hands and signed his name without hesitation. He looked up to Ste afterwards, turned the pages around so they were the right way up in front of Ste, and held the pen out to him. His expression was playful – eyebrows raised, mouth twitching into a smile, eyes glinting with that look, that look that made Ste just want to take off all his clothes and do whatever Brendan wanted.

Ste smiled, a crooked one-sided smile, and felt a little unsure about what he was about to do. He glanced down at the page, felt a stab of frustration as he saw the words jump out at him, unable to focus properly and struggling with the complexity of the language used.

"It says you get everything, Steven," Brendan jumped in, aware of the difficulty Ste was having due to his dyslexia.

Ste looked back up into his eyes. "What's everything?"

"All the money currently in my account, except for a bit to get me by when I eventually get out of here," he winked at Ste with his left eye, making sure his accountant to his right couldn't have seen it, "all the money in my bank account – the money from the sale of the club and of the flat – as well as the other couple of business operations I had going on. There's an offshore account that will be put into your name. The house back in Ireland, where Eileen, Dec and Paddy live – that will technically be in your name too. Your flat – our flat – the whole apartment block, they will be yours too. To do with as you wish."

"I don't know, Brendan," Ste hesitated, "It's too much…" It was so much more than Ste was expecting – he thought Brendan was only agreeing to the cash being transferred, not everything that Brendan owned in the world.

Brendan was confused. He was doing this so that Ste could get that money out in the form of cash, so that they could take it with them when they went on the run. Why was he acting as if he wasn't aware of this? Money meant nothing to him anymore, and not just because he was on the inside and he had no way to spend it, but because nothing had any value to him now, other than Steven.

Brendan's eyes glared as he conveyed his confusion, and Ste joined the dots together in his head, his eyes widening suddenly and his smile – that smile that Brendan would literally die for – took over his face. He picked up the pen and signed next to his name.

The accountant took the paper from both of them and signed under his section as the witness to the agreement.

"That's everything then, Mr Brady," he closed his briefcase and held his hand out for Brendan to shake over the table, which he did before turning to Ste and offering his hand to him too, "And congratulations, Mr Hay, you are now a very wealthy man indeed."

Ste shook his hand, the smile still plastered across his face, and even the disdain in this mans voice at the way Ste had just accepted all of Brendan's wordly possessions couldn't dampen Ste's spirit in that moment.

Brendan had just given him _everything _he owned. _Everything. _

He leant over the table to give Brendan a long and passionate kiss, as the accountant stood up and left.

The guards came straight over and pulled Brendan out of the kiss by dragging him back by his shoulders. "That's your first warning, Brady – one more and he's gone."

They pulled themselves away and tried to control themselves, as difficult as that always was for these two.

"I still can't believe you've just signed your whole life over to me," Ste laughed, shaking his head as he looked over to Brendan in awe.

"Steven," he replied in earnest, "That money is for us, for our life together. It was as much yours as it was mine anyway, from the second you worked your way in and warmed up this cold heart of mine. The money isn't my whole life, Steven – you are."

Ste felt as if he could explode with happiness at hearing Brendan say these things to him. He had never been good at expressing his feelings – one of the reasons why Ste had learnt how to read his body so well – but in these few moments when he did open up, it was like pure honey for the soul. He was so proud to call Brendan his own.

"So, you know what the plan is?" Brendan asked, voice low and soft.

"Yeah," Ste replied, "Next Friday, the underpass just under the motorway bridge, noon onwards."

"Good lad," Brendan smiled as the bell rung to signal the end of visiting hours, "I'll see you then, Steven."

"Errr, no Brendan," Ste answered back at him, Brendan's heart dropping slightly at the thought of Ste backing out, "You won't be ignoring me any more. I'll be back here tomorrow – I'll be seeing you then."

As Ste gave him a self-satisfied smile and turned to walk away, Brendan couldn't help thinking he was the luckiest guy in the world. For the first time since being here, he couldn't wait to see that white envelope with Steven's visitation request land on his cell floor the next morning.

He returned to his cell, unaware of the eyes that had been on him throughout the whole exchange, watching his every move.


	15. Chapter 15

_**I know I say it every time but thank you thank you thank you for the reviews!**_

Chapter 15

Ste had spent the last few days busying himself with all the planning. He was still in shock after what Brendan had done the other day at the prison – that he had just signed over all of his monetary possessions to him in a heartbeat. He felt completely out of his depth with all of this, and wished more than anything that he had Brendan out here with him to talk him through it all. He had no-body here now - Cheryl was over in Ireland; Amy and the kids were in New York; Doug had lost interest in him a long time ago. He only had himself to rely on, and he knew he had to get things right.

It was Wednesday now, a week since Brendan had given him all of his worldly possessions, and two days until the escape was planned. Ste had visited Brendan everyday, and they had discussed what Ste had done so far and what he still needed to do to prepare for their plan.

He had already ticked off most things on the list Brendan had given him, had met up with various dodgy looking contacts and paid them for their respective services. Rick seemed to be the brains behind their new life more than any of the others. He had set everything up for them – new names, new birth certificates, medical records, bank accounts – once they were away, they would be able to slip into their new identities and never look back. Ste had met with him numerous times to discuss things, and he had helped with some of the logistics of moving the money around amongst other things. All for a very high fee, of course, but the idea of having a new life to step into once Brendan was out – that was just priceless.

Ste was confident everything was slotting into place for them now – he had bought the new car, changed the plates, closed his bank account and requested the money in cash, to avoid any paper trail. He had then deposited most of the cash into the joint bank account Rick had set up with their new names, but kept a wedge of it in notes for them to get by on until they had settled somewhere. There was enough all together for them to never have to work another day in their life, although Ste assumed Brendan would find something for them to do – he could imagine him getting bored with the life of a retired millionaire.

He had managed to get a deal in place for the sale of the flats – it was well under market value and Ste was reluctant to be basically giving away his home on the cheap, but he had to focus on their new life now, and they needed all the money they could get. He had arranged to sell for cash and had set the meeting up for this afternoon, and once that had been done all their financial ties to Hollyoaks village were done.

The only thing Ste hadn't sold was the deli. It was something he couldn't bear to see gone, not after everything him and Doug had put into that place. He had never been so proud of himself as he was when that place opened, aside from when Lucas was born. It was his – his and Doug's. They had thought up the idea, planned the menu, sorted the budgets, painted the walls, served the customers, kept the profits - everything. He couldn't find it in himself to just sell it on to some nobody and have them take all of the credit. That just wasn't an option. He decided he would sign it over to Doug – he had kept it going all these months anyway, and he owed him a lot after the way he had treated him when Brendan got locked up. He had married the guy, then run off with one of his least favourite people in the world, and then pushed him away when he had tried to bring him back from the abyss. He owed him, so he had all the paperwork in place, and signed it over to Doug – his parting apology – and planned to slip it through his letterbox on Friday morning.

All that was left now was to pick up their new passports from Rick on Thursday, pack their bags, drive over to the agreed meeting point on Friday morning and wait with baited breath.

But not forgetting his visit to the prison today – the last time he would see Brendan on the inside. After this, it was either see him Friday and drive off into the sunset together, or never see him again. The idea of either option just killed him – both for completely different reasons.

Ste was quickly called through to the visitors room, where he walked in and took a seat at a secluded table in the corner. He realised he no longer felt that anxious knot in the pit of his stomach as he waited for them to come for him. He knew now, today at least, that Brendan would be there, no matter what.

"Hey, sexy," Brendan growled, his voice low, almost a whisper in Ste's ear as he took his face in his hands and kissed him powerfully on his lips. His kiss felt different, and Ste couldn't help but notice in the past few days the 'tache had been replaced with a dark, thick beard. Ste thought he looked sexy as hell with it, and maybe would have preferred it to the 'tache if he hadn't become so accustomed to that 'tache representing Brendan Brady as he knew and loved him.

Ste smirked back as Brendan pulled away and sat down opposite him, taken aback by the fact that he had just called him _sexy _in here, in front of everyone. He was obviously in a playful mood.

"Hey, old man," he answered back, watching Brendan's expression turn into a playful warning at his cheek.

"Oi," he teased, "respect your elders, kid."

Ste loved it when he was like this – when he seemed carefree and playful. He had always had his moments, when no matter what he did to him, no matter how much hurt and pain he put him through, he would still get that twinkle in his eye and would flirt with him, like he was forgetting to put his mask on. It took Ste back to when they used to work together, in Chez Chez and the SU Bar, when it was quiet and no-one could see and he would tease him about how scrawny his arms were and how he should get those crates from the cellar as he might actually get a bicep at the end of it.

He didn't miss those times, because there was so much shit in between the good stuff, but he wished he could go back to when it was just him and Brendan – no prison, no scheming ex-police officers, no child-abusing father. Just him and Brendan and all the sex he would ever need in the world.

"What you thinking about?" Brendan chimed in, could see Ste had a smile on his face and wondered where his thoughts had drifted.

"I'm thinking about us," Ste smiled back, "about how things used to be, in the beginning."

Brendan's head dipped as his heart sunk to the pit of his stomach. He hated being reminded of everything he had done to his boy in the early days, how he had hurt him and pushed him away, used his mind tricks on him as if he was just like the others. How could he have known back then that Steven was so different – that he would change everything?

"I'm sorry," Brendan started, his voice choking.

"No," Ste chimed in, reaching his hand across the table but stopping short of placing it over Brendan's hand that lay there, desperate to hold him but aware of where they were and how he would react. "Don't say it again, Brendan. I know you're sorry for all that. I know you're fighting it. That isn't what I was thinking about."

Brendan looked down at his hand, knew Steven had wanted to hold his own when he reached out, and realised he wanted nothing more than to hold it back. But for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to do that. Not in here. Not like this. If he was going to hold Steven's hand, ever, then it would need to be in better circumstances than these.

Brendan nodded in response to Ste's plea.

"Yeah. I was thinking about the good bits," he carried on, "'cause there was some good bits. Like the bits that made me fall in love with you. When it was just me and you –"

"Yeah?" Brendan questioned.

"Yeah," Ste confirmed, nodding at him.

"I don't deserve you, Steven," he chimed in out of the blue, "I love you so much. Don't you ever forget that."

Ste smiled back at him, "I know, Brendan. Me too."

They sat and talked for over an hour about the plans, about how Brendan had managed to get the job on the deliveries bay and now everything was set up for Friday. Once Steven left he was due a visit from the one of the guys who worked for his contact, and they were finalising details, then it was all set up.

They both tried to keep the conversation as casual as they could, tried not to appear too excited so as to raise the suspicion of the guards. They both knew the gravity of this visit – knew this could be the last time they ever saw each other, but neither of them wanted to waste any time acknowledging that, instead choosing to share idle small talk, reminiscing about their time in Dublin, and arguing over where in the world they could head to.

When the time came for Ste to leave, Brendan let his eyes cast over him and drink in his features for what could be one last time. Ste reached over the table, placing one hand each side of his face and leaning over for a chaste kiss.

"I love you, Brendan Brady," Ste was trying to hold back his tears and plastered a smile on his face, "Forever."

"I love you, Steven Hay," Brendan nodded back, "Forever."

He leant back over and kissed him again. This felt so final, and there was a nagging feeling in the pit of Brendan's stomach that made him feel uneasy, he couldn't quite place it.

"Friday, noon, yeah?" Brendan said quietly once he had checked there were no guards nearby. He waited for Ste to nod then added, "Wait for me. If I'm not there straight away, still wait for me yeah?"

Ste nodded again, leant in for another kiss and got up to leave.

"And Steven," Brendan pulled him back down to his chair, "When you get back today, after you've met the guy about the flats, turn your phone off and don't answer any calls. I don't want anything fucking this up for us, yeah?"

"Yeah," Ste smiled back at him as the guards came over to usher Ste out. They both stood up, Ste reached over to take Brendan's face in his hands once more and land another kiss against his soft lips, tasting him for what could be one last time. The guards pulled him away and this time he went silently, their eyes remaining locked on each other, saying everything they needed to say through that spark which ran indefinitely between the two of them.

And then he was gone.

-s-

Brendan sauntered back to his cell with a smile on his face. Nothing could stop him now. The visit from his contact had gone well – the plan was in place, it was watertight, and the next time he saw Steven they would be free, riding off into the sunset together without a care in the world. He couldn't stop from smiling to himself as he opened his cell door and walked inside.

He suddenly felt a searing pain in the back of his head, felt a groan try to escape his mouth but he was stunned into silence, as his knees gave way and he fell to the ground.

Everything faded to black.

-s-

Ste returned home that afternoon after his meeting with the estate agent for the sale of the flats – everything had gone through fine and that was another tick in the box. All that was left now was packing, and collecting passports tomorrow.

He opened up the wardrobe and sorted through their stuff. He knew they could only take one small bag each, and decided to fill his own with the tracksuits and hoody's that he knew made Brendan's heart ignite, along with other parts of his anatomy. It had been over a week without feeling his touch first thing in the morning, without their regular evening shag, and Ste started to feel a little hot under the collar thinking about everything he had planned for him on Friday night.

He quickly had his own bag packed and in the hallway, and had picked out his grey trackies and Brendan's navy blue hoody to wear for the getaway on Friday. He knew Brendan liked them best, and wanted to see his eyes glaze over as they always did when he was consumed by desire, imagined him tearing them off on the bonnet of the car as soon as he saw him on Friday. Ste's heart skipped a beat just thinking of it.

He needed to pack Brendan's bag now, and this took a lot more time and effort. There were so many clothes to pick from, Ste held up each one in turn and thought through his favourite memory of Brendan wearing it, deciding which ones to take and which ones to wave a sad goodbye to.

He had to take at least one of his suits. He looked too fucking sexy in his suits to not take a couple with them. He held them up one by one. The light grey one was a definite. He loved the way those trousers clung to his heavenly arse. And his crotch, for that matter. Ste knew exactly what was under there anyway but those grey suit trousers left very little to the imagination. They were definitely coming with them.

Ste wasn't so sure on the cream one. It looked expensive – very expensive. But he couldn't help but be reminded of some of the worse times, when Brendan had been all passive aggressive, when he had hit him in front of Declan then tried to make up for it, when they had sat outside the police station together and Brendan had begged him not to go in, for Declans sake. Ste shuddered at the thought, then put the cream suit back in the wardrobe. That one could stay.

He moved on to the shirts. The red one, that was definitely coming – he had worn that for their first proper kiss in the cellar, and it made him look dangerous and irresistible. The light blue one - that looked so good with his grey suit, and the black one too. He had worn that black one that momentous night they had baked bread together in the deli, and when Brendan had promised to give Ste the future he deserved. That one was definitely coming with them.

He threw in his black jeans and his denim jeans, along with the grey long sleeved top that made his biceps look huge. The same top in black was a definite too – he had worn that the night of their first kiss, and it always made Ste think of that night. He toyed with the idea of leaving all his boxer shorts behind, making sure he would have to go commando, but then he pulled those black ones out with the neon blue waistband, and he couldn't bear the thought of never seeing them against his lithe torso, so he packed them and a few others begrudgingly.

That coat. No, he'd never liked that coat. Yeah, he had been wearing it in Dublin, but it reminded him too much of all the times he wore it before they got back together – all the times he would see him around the village and not be able to be with him. And it made him look so much older, too. He much preferred him in this short leather jacket. The coat could be left behind; the jacket was coming.

Ste zipped up the bag and threw it into the hallway next to his own. He lay down on the bed feeling rather pleased with himself.

Everything was falling into place.

-s-

When he came round, Brendan felt a dull ache in the back of his head, winced against the pressure and tried to bring his hand to his face, before feeling the rough burn against his wrists and the cold of metal against his palms.

He blinked once, twice, a third time – his eyes feeling heavy – and slowly turned his aching neck to take in his surroundings. He was in his own cell, sat on the floor next to the bed. His wrists were tied behind his back and to the leg of the bed. It was getting dark outside – must be dusk – and his stomach groaned with hunger.

He saw a hooded figure sat in the corner of his cell, recognised his slight form and awkward disposition immediately. It was Karl. And he was holding a rather sizeable knife in his hands, toying with the sharp blade along his fingertips.

This certainly wasn't part of the plan.

Brendan coughed and Karl's attention diverted straight towards him, a sickening smile covering his face.

"You're gonna regret this, Karl," Brendan sneered under his breath after a moment of awkward silence, his voice slow as he felt the pain in his whole body, his eyes locked onto Karl's, not a shred of fear in them.

Karl stood up and paced towards him gradually, turning the knife slowly in his hands as he walked, a satisfied smile on his face.

"You know what, Brendan," he spoke slowly as he knelt down to bring his face level with Brendan's, "there's two things you're wrong on there."

"Oh yeah," Brendan mused, inviting Karl's explanation.

"Yeah," Karl replied, eyes never losing their fixation on Brendan's, "You see, I'm pretty sure I'm not gonna regret a single second of what I'm about to do, Brendan," he was smiling sinisterly, "And, the other thing you're wrong on…"

He leant down now and whispered into Brendan's ear, "My names not really Karl." He smiled down at him, pleased with himself for being able to fool Brendan for so long.

Brendan's mind started whirring away – he hadn't seen that one coming, and he was desperately thinking now about who this lad could possibly be. His mind searched, listing off his enemies, sure there were more than he was aware of. He could be one of any number of people.

All the time he couldn't get the image of Steven out of his head - that in 36 hours he would be waiting for him, waiting to start their new life together, and that he may never be able to see him again.

Brendan kept his pokerface, made sure Karl couldn't sense his confusion or his fear, just grunted in response to what he was sure Karl thought of as his big reveal.

"My name's Daniel," he started, Brendan feigning disinterest in what he had to say, "I was named after my father. You remember him, don't you?"

Brendan's ears pricked up then, his face twisting with realisation as he lifted his head up and joined eyes with his captor, letting out a small laugh which betrayed his intrigue.

"You know him, Brendan," Karl carried on, "You must remember my dad Danny."

Brendan nodded slowly, panic setting in now, rising in his chest. He forced his exterior to remain calm – no heavy breathing, no twitch in his cheek. But all he could think of now was Steven. He needed to get to him, but he knew he was in trouble. If this guy really was Danny Houston's son, he was sure he wouldn't stop until he had finished Brendan off for good.

He started to pull discreetly on the binding around his wrists. _Good, _he thought to himself – it was rope. This guy was an amateur – he should have used cable ties. Everyone knows rope frays eventually, plastic is a lot harder to wriggle free from. Maybe he had learnt nothing from his Dad, Brendan hoped.

He started his escape, moving his wrists against each other slowly, knowing with the right amount of pressure and with enough time, he could loosen the rope enough to set himself free. He carried on talking throughout, keeping his eye contact with Karl to distract him.

"Danny didn't have any kids, Karl," Brendan started, knowing right where Karl's weak spot was and exploiting it straight away, "Or none that he bothered talking about."

"My name is DANIEL," he shouted back, his calm façade falling as Brendan silently congratulated himself on hitting the nerve straight away, "And my Dad…he didn't know about me. Not until it was too late."

Karl's gaze was faltering, he wasn't as strong as he was making himself out to be, and Brendan knew he could get inside his head, play with his emotions. Karl had made the fatal error of admitting he didn't know his father, which had given Brendan renewed hope that he hadn't learnt his fathers ruthless disregard for human life.

All the time his hands were working away, loosening the rope bit by bit.

"He was a bad man, Karl," Brendan continued his assault, "he hurt people. It was only a matter of time until he got his payback," he paused for effect, watching the words sink into Karl's mind before laying in further, "I was just privileged to be the one to provide it."

Karl lashed out, unexpectedly, hitting Brendan square in the face with his elbow. He hadn't anticipated that, but he smiled to himself. He knew then that Karl didn't have it in him – he was holding a knife in his hand, but he had been too afraid to use it. He had gone for the easy option – used brutal force – but he hadn't had the guts to use the knife. He felt his hope renewed slightly.

He let Karl continue talking as he started to piece together the information in his head, letting Karl think he had the upper hand against Brendan, all the while loosening his hands in the rope behind his back, looser still.

"You're scum, Brendan Brady," Karl spat, his voice laced with disdain as he stood back up and paced around the cell, knife twirling around in his hand.

Brendan coughed in response, busy trying to free himself whilst feigning interest in what Karl had to say.

"I didn't know who my Dad was until I was 17," he started, more because he felt he needed to tell _someone _his story, anyone who would listen, because nobody had been interested before. "My mom never told my Dad I existed, 'cause she knew what he was like. I only met him a week before _you_ killed him, Brendan. I told him who I was, and he said he was about to come into some money and that me and him could go away when it was done, that we could get to know each other."

Brendan could tell he was rambling, that his emotions were starting to get the better of him – he was weak now, and Brendan needed to capitalise on it. He kept loosening, loosening, loosening.

"I never got the chance to have that though, did I, Brendan?" his voice was getting louder, his calm exterior rattled with the memories of the pain he had felt at the time, "You made sure that never happened, didn't you? And what for? Huh? Why did you do it, Brendan? All for some pathetic night club? Or just for kicks? Huh? What was it, Brendan? Tell me – tell me why you killed my dad!" His voice had cracked now, and he turned to face away from Brendan, clearly trying to hide away the tears that were threatening to fall.

Brendan used the opportunity to have a few powerful tugs against the rope, could feel it almost loose enough now.

Karl spun back round, pacing quickly towards Brendan and bringing the knife up against his neck before barking at him, "Tell me, you fucker, tell me why or I swear to god I will kill you right now."

Brendan looked straight into his eyes, unflinching, and answered him, "You haven't got the balls, Karl."

He tried to prove Brendan wrong. He had planned this for weeks – that he would trap him, make him confess, make him beg for mercy whilst he tortured him, making him feel the pain his Dad must have felt, before taking his life away from him. He desperately wanted Brendan to be wrong, but the closer he got, the more he looked into Brendan's fearless eyes, the more resistance he felt against the knife in his hand as it pushed against Brendan's skin, the more he knew he was right. He wasn't a killer.

He didn't let Brendan see, though, dragging the knife away slowly and smirking at the light red marking it had left behind on his neck.

"Don't play with fire, Brendan," he shot back, trying to hide his sudden lack of confidence and hoping Brendan hadn't read the signs, "You know what they say. Just tell me why you killed him."

"You wanna know why I did it?" Brendan asked, voice almost cocky despite his vulnerable status. Images of Steven flashed into his mind now as they had done that night, when Danny had threatened his boy. He remembered how it was only then that he realised just how far he was willing to go to protect the boy.

Karl nodded, appearing more desperate than he would have liked.

"It was all because of Steven," Brendan answered, voice calm and collected, slow and sinister, "Yeah, all because of my Steven. Your Daddy threatened Steven's life. So I took your Daddy's life away."

Karl stood still, only now realising the depth of his love for Ste, instantly regretting the opportunity he had foregone to take away the person closest to Brendan when he had the chance.

"What is it with you two?" Karl asked, seemed to be actually interested in the bond him and Ste shared, "I've seen you this week. I know you're planning something. I am sorry if my own little plan gets in the way of that at all, by the way."

He seemed quite pleased with himself that he could be getting in the way of a Brendan Brady master plan.

The room fell silent for a few minutes, Brendan desperately trying to keep his cool, to keep the disinterest plastered over his face – to make sure Karl didn't know he was getting to him. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation, and Brendan couldn't resist asking the question.

"So you came in here just to do this, did you? Just to get back at me for killing the Daddy who never bothered with you anyway?"

Karl huffed, couldn't believe the audacity of the man he had before him now, tied to his own prison bed and under the threat of the knife Karl was currently holding.

"You know, when I first came in here," Karl started to explain, "I was looking for a way to get in with you. I saw you crying over his picture and I thought I could use that to get inside your head, so that I could end you once and for all."

Karl knew he was oversharing already, but he wasn't going to go so far as to admit that he had actually developed a fascination with Brendan to begin with. He had watched him, day in day out, and he had found his hate slowly turning into some kind of sexual fixation. He had hated himself for it, but he'd found Brendan's face making its way into his dreams at night, and the lines had started to become blurred in his head. Brendan had a way of getting under your skin, and Karl wondered if that was how he had gotten Ste to fall in love with him in the first place.

Karl carried on, regardless of the complete disinterest Brendan was showing in his life story.

"Then your Steven arrived and that fucked those plans up," he continued, as if Brendan cared at all for the workings of his mind, "So I had to change my tactics. I used him to get close to you, to find out what makes you tick. To find out if it was definitely you that killed him. And it turns out, you did. So we find ourselves here, Brendan Brady. Just me, and you, and this knife. And there's only one of us getting out of here alive today Brendan. Guess who?"

With one final tug at the rope Brendan freed his hands, reached out and grabbed Karl by his throat and pushed him back up against the wall. He had taken him by surprise, causing him to drop the knife to the floor.

Brendan leant down to swipe the knife into his own hands and all of a sudden the tables had turned – Brendan was back on top where he belonged, with Karl up against the wall and the tip of the knife pressed into his neck, drawing droplets of blood as it pierced his skin.

"Yeah, Karl," he sneered at him, "Guess who?"

He strengthened his grip around Karl's neck as the colour drained completely from his face, panicked sounds escaping his mouth as he gasped for his last few breaths. After a minute, Brendan saw his eyes glaze over, as if a light had gone out, so he thought it was done and let go, Karl's legs giving way immediately as he dropped him to the floor. The knife dropped from his hands, bouncing once, then twice against the concrete floor, unmistakeable sound of metal against concrete. Brendan stepped back, leaning his palms against his knees and taking short, sharp ragged breaths as he fixed his eyes to the floor.

A few seconds later he looked up, expecting to see Karl's lifeless body slumped on the floor in a heap - but he wasn't there.

He suddenly felt a blow to the back of his head again. It wasn't enough to knock him out this time, but he dropped to the floor with the shock of it and saw Karl stumbling around before him. He cursed himself – he had obviously not finished the job properly.

He stood himself up and faced his opponent once more.

"This is for you, Dad," Karl slurred, the oxygen deprivation clearly affecting him as he stumbled towards Brendan, his balance uncoordinated but his intentions clear. He held the knife before him and he ran – this was all or nothing for him.

Brendan felt the searing pain rush up his side as the blade ripped into his skin, his breath suddenly failing him and his eyes widening as he felt his world crash down around him. He looked up and saw Karl still stumbling around, the smile smeared across his face, causing the red mist to descend over Brendan. He wasn't going to be finished off by some little runt who had played him. He reached out, fighting against the pain he felt course throughout his entire body, the knife still sticking out of the left of his torso. He grabbed Karl, feeling his vision start to blur but focusing his strength now on the revenge he sought. He pushed him back against the wall, held onto his shoulders and pulled them forwards quickly, then back, smacking the back of Karl's head squarely against the wall. He saw his eyes rolling back in his head and the blood trickle down the wall. He repeated the same again, and another time, until he saw the light disappear from behind Karl's eyes and dropped his body to a slump on the floor.

Brendan was swaying now, his vision in double, not sure if it was Karl still moving below him or the world just spinning at his feet. It must be the latter – he tried to kick Karl over, ended up more like a poke and a shove with his foot as all his energy was spent, but it was enough. His body rolled onto his back and he saw him then, eyes glazed, lifeless, blood pooling around his head on the floor of his cell.

Number 5.

He felt sick; he needed air. He reached down to the source of the pain and felt the knife still inside him. His mind not thinking straight, he pulled it out slowly, felt all the blood rush out over his hands. He was doubled over now, stumbling, and as he reached for the cell door he felt his body give way below him. He was vaguely aware of the guards rushing towards him as he fell to the floor in the corridor outside his cell.

As he closed his eyes and it all faded to black, all he saw were images of Steven. His life. Flashing before his eyes.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16 

Ste woke up on Thursday morning full of anticipation, trying to ignore the nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach, putting it down to nervous excitement about what the next couple of days had in store. He checked his phone, smiled as he saw the picture of Brendan, Leah and Lucas and noticed a missed call from late last night. It was a number he didn't recognise, probably another of those companies telling him he could consolidate his debts or claim compensation for mis-sold PPI. Whatever that meant.

He brushed it aside and got up and dressed, checking the time on his phone every two minutes out of nervous anxiety, willing the time to tick by faster. He was due to meet Rick at two in the afternoon in the folly to get the passports and then he was all done – he just had to wait around for Brendan. And the waiting was nearly killing him.

He turned on the TV, knew it would take more than Jeremy Kyle to get him through the morning but it was a welcome distraction at least. After a few minutes he jumped up and made himself some breakfast, choosing to treat himself to a full English mainly because it would take at least 15 minutes to get it all together and that meant another 15 minutes not sat watching the clock.

This was going to be a long day.

He heard his phone ringing again; saw it was the same number that had called him the night before. There was something telling him that he needed to answer this call, something related to that bad feeling he had woken up with, but he remembered Brendan's advice that he shouldn't answer his phone in case someone was trying to fuck things up for them. He tapped the 'ignore' button and put his phone back down.

He sat down with his breakfast, took his time eating it and embraced the silence in the room. He looked around him, at the living room of his flat. He remembered when him and Amy first moved here with Leah, how they had been desperate to get out of that B&B and he had been so proud of himself for getting them this place. He remembered coming back on that first night and seeing how Amy had made such an effort to turn the place into a home, and how they curled up on the sofa together watching TV – like a real family. He remembered the Christmases they had enjoyed here as a family. He remembered the bad times – when he had hurt Amy, when he had cut off her hair - then when she had helped to save him, to make him become the person he is today. He remembered when Brendan came round here and they slept together for the first time, and all the other times after that. He remembered how Brendan had been willing to move in to this slum just to be with Ste, because he loved him enough to put up with the rising damp and the old battered sofa just so they could be together.

He was leaving a lot behind him, he knew that – it was so easy to get caught up in the excitement of it all and forget about the life and the memories he was turning his back on. But he knew he couldn't survive now without Brendan – there was no life without him. There was nothing in his life stronger that the force that pulled him and Brendan together. They had new memories to make now.

He bided his time until he could realistically leave to meet Rick without being too early, left at around half past one and took the long route to the folly. He desperately wanted to get there and back without bumping into anyone from the village, in case they had questions for him about where he had been and what his plans were. He didn't have the energy to lie to people; all he could muster up right now was excitement about seeing Brendan again tomorrow.

Rick kept Ste waiting but arrived eventually, the passports in a large brown envelope which he gave to Ste in return for his fee, along with a smaller, sealed, white envelope that Rick advised he was to give to Brendan when he saw him, and he wasn't to open it under any circumstances. Ste thanked him, genuinely, and told him they would be forever in his debt for helping him out. Rick wished them luck and strolled away, never to be seen again.

Ste rushed back to the flat, relieved that he had done everything Brendan asked of him now – their new life was ready and waiting for them. He was more than a little bit curious about the extra package Rick had given him, was tempted to open it up and have a peek inside, but decided against it eventually – he couldn't bring himself to go against Brendan's wishes.

All that was left now was for Brendan to get out of that hellhole. Everything rested on him now.

Ste burst through the flat door and sat down on their sofa, wondering what Brendan would be doing now. He wondered if he had this same strange feeling in his stomach that Ste had felt all day – it must be the nerves and anxiety about tomorrow, he supposed. What else would it be?

He pictured Brendan in his cell, pacing around and counting down the hours. He wondered whether Karl had still been showing an unhealthy interest in him as Brendan mentioned he had been on their last visit. Not speaking to him these past couple of days was killing him; he couldn't wait to hear his thick Irish drawl again tomorrow, to hear about how he passed away the hours until his escape.

Ste didn't believe in God, but right now he prayed for Brendan to come to him tomorrow as agreed. He prayed and prayed and prayed, rubbing Brendan's cross between his thumb and forefinger as he did so. He was willing to give anything a try if it could help make sure he turned up tomorrow.

He reached down and checked his phone again – another missed call from that same number. Who was trying to get through to him? He thought about calling the number back, but told himself if it was that important they would leave him a voicemail. He didn't know who it was but he wasn't going to risk it being something which would put a halt on their plans. He decided ignorance was bliss – whatever they had to tell him, he didn't want to know. All that mattered was him and Brendan and the forever that lay ahead of them.

He pulled the passports out of the envelope and checked them over, even getting his actual passport and comparing the difference between a real and a fake – there was nothing obvious that he could tell. Rick had promised they were the real deal – they would be able to get through any passport control with them – and from the looks of things he wasn't lying.

He held the two passports before him, his and Brendan's solemn expressions staring up at him as he winced at the sight of their new names. This was going to be the hardest thing to get used to – how could he ever get used to him _not _being Brendan Brady anymore? He thought back to their conversation about it when he visited him in prison.

_"You gotta choose a new name, of course," Brendan had let out - Ste couldn't decipher if it was a smirk or a grimace on his face._

_"Oh what? Why?" Ste had replied defensively._

_"Well people are gonna be looking for us, Steven. We can't just waltz around in the middle of Hollyoaks village anymore – "_

_"But you're Brendan Brady," Ste had interrupted, emphasising his name as if he was some sort of God, "You're notorious. How are you gonna cope with not being Brendan Brady anymore, eh?"_

_"About as well as I'm gonna cope with not being able to call you Steven anymore, Steven," Brendan had answered back, a wave of sadness visibly passing over his face as his own words sunk in, emphasising his name the second time and letting the words roll of his tongue seductively._

_Ste paused for a while, before reassuring him, "Behind closed doors, though, Brendan," he let that thought settle in with a wink and a smirk, noticed a glimmer of light return to Brendan's face._

_"You'll always be Steven to me."_

_Ste smiled shyly. _

_"Well," Ste suggested, "You do get it as a surname don't you. Stevens."_

_Brendan thought about that and smiled, nodding as he realised he liked the thought that he wouldn't have to let go of that name completely. "Ok," he muttered, "And what about my last name?"_

_"Erm, well, maybe you could have Stevens too?"_

_"Huh?"_

_"Well, we could have the same last name. We'll be together won't we, like, and we were like an old married couple anyway, before, weren't we, so, like, we might as well – "_

_"Sounds perfect," Brendan interrupted him, couldn't play down the smile that had crept over his face._

_"Ace," Ste beamed back at him, "Plus it kinda makes you sound like you're all mine, like you belong to me!"_

_"I am, Steven," Brendan answered back, without hesitation, "And I do."_

_They had both sat and basked in the romanticism of their conversation for several seconds, before Ste had piped up with their next decision._

_"What about first names?"_

_"I was thinking if I could pick any name," Brendan started, clear that he had been passing the time on the inside mulling this over, "I'd take that of the man himself – Johnny Cash."_

_"What, so you'd be Johnny Stevens?" Ste questioned, his face screwing up at the thought."_

_"Yeah, why? You don't like it?" Brendan was mock offended at the thought._

_"Well, I dunno," Ste thought it over carefully, "it just doesn't sound very _you _Bren. It sounds a bit chavvy, like."_

_"Oh well then it'd suit you perfectly," Brendan teased and Ste laughed and hit him gently on the arm._

_"Yeah, then it'd be like I'm your two favourite things in the world rolled into one!" Ste beamed, feeling so pleased with himself in that moment._

_"Well then it's sorted," Brendan decided, silently adoring the sentiment before adding, "Johnny," and shuddering at the way the word felt against his lips._

_"What about you first name?" Ste asked after a while._

_"I don't know," he looked up to the sky as he thought it over, "Maybe I could be Nolan, y'know, in memory of Lynsey."_

_Ste smiled and nodded back at him, "Sorted."_

Ste laughed to himself at the memory, looking down at their names confirmed in the passports before him now. Johnny and Nolan Stevens. What did that make them? Johnlan? Johlan? Nolnny? He shuddered – nothing would ever sound as good as Steven and Brendan – Stendan.

He swallowed hard as he tried to calm himself down again. He knew he was starting to take it for granted that Brendan would be there tomorrow, although there was a massive possibility that he wasn't going to be able to pull it all off. He started to worry about everything that could go wrong, about how all it would take would be for one guard to recognise him as he was driving out and then the whole thing would go to pot. One tiny mistake, and their future together was over.

Ste's phone buzzed again – that same damn number – and he decided once and for all to turn the phone off – it couldn't be anything important. He threw his phone, along with their passports and the mysterious white envelope, into the bags that lay in the hallway, all ready for the getaway tomorrow.

He milled around the flat for the afternoon, tidying and doing some housework, chucking out binbag after binbag of worthless possessions that he was never going to need again. He knew he might be getting ahead of himself, but he was going out of his mind with worry and needed something to pass the time.

After a few hours he gave up, saw it was 9pm and decided to give in. He went to bed, taking a bottle of whiskey with him in the hope that it might calm his nerves and help him get off to sleep. He hoped beyond hope that this would be his last ever night without Brendan by his side.

-s-

Brendan lay motionless in the hospital bed, machines working away, the _beep…beep…beep _of the heart monitor and the rhythmic up and down of the oxygen machine keeping his body working.

He came round slowly, opening his eyes and blinking away the shocking brightness of the artificial lights in the hospital room. He thought for a few short seconds that this was it – that he was in heaven against all the odds – but he realised that there was no Steven in here, so it couldn't possibly be.

He tried to move his neck but found that he couldn't, it felt incredibly stiff for some reason. He tried to piece together in his mind what he was doing here, tried to recollect the events that brought him into this hospital bed, but it all seemed a blank for now.

As he adjusted to his surroundings, he became aware of two people talking in hushed tones at the end of his bed.

_"He's been unconscious for over 24 hours now, we have tried to contact next of kin repeatedly but there has been no answer. Once he wakes up we can think about getting him out of the hospital and into the prison medical ward at least. I don't want him staying here longer than he needs to, its' not secure enough. We will have a guard keep watch throughout the night but he's unconscious for now at least."_

Brendan closed his eyes again and remained quiet. If they were making allowances for him based on the fact he was unconscious still, even in his confused state he knew the clever thing to do was to make them think he was still dead to the world.

As he lay there with his eyes closed, he felt his memories slowly coming back to him, like they were some sort of jigsaw puzzle being pieced back together in his brain.

It was Karl – he's the reason he was in hospital. He remembered that now – their confrontation. He felt his stomach curl over as he remembered what he had done to the young lad, sickened him still now as much as it did with Danny Houston, the thought of having taken another's life away. It was never going to be an easy thing for him to live with. But he remembered how it had been necessary – and he could feel the piercing ache in his left side reminding him exactly why that was.

His mind raced to Steven. He couldn't have been told he was in here from what the officers were saying. Good boy. Hadn't picked his phone up, doing what Brendan told him. He pieced together what their plan had been for getting away, knew now that there would have to be a plan B. His brain went into overdrive, needing to figure out what the plan was to get him back to Steven. He was determined nothing would get in the way of him and his boy ever again.

He thought again about what he had just overheard, that it had been 24 hours he had been unconscious. He judged that by the faint light coming through his window that it must be dusk, and that it must now be Thursday. He was in the main hospital and not in the prison ward, and there would be just one guard outside his bedroom overnight.

He laughed to himself. He wondered if, just for once in his godforsaken life, the world was on his side. This seemed too easy.

He was getting out of here. Tonight. Even if it killed him.

-s-

A few hours passed by and Brendan felt himself slipping in and out of consciousness. He willed himself to stay awake, knew he had to be focused to make his move, and knew if he was going to do it, it would have to be soon.

The hospital was only a few miles, four tops, from the underpass where he was due to meet Steven. Getting out of the handcuffs and away from this room was going to be the hard part, but he couldn't help thinking it was going to be so much easier to break out of here than it would be to break out of the maximum security prison as he was planning. God was obviously looking down on them tonight, and he said a silent prayer of thanks.

He vaguely heard the sound of his door opening and his eyes darted open, could tell now it must be the dead of night as it was so quiet everywhere, and the lights in the hallway were all dimmed. Nobody was aware he had regained consciousness yet; he still had the upper hand.

He could see a figure lurking down the bottom of his bed reading his chart, saw the long white coat and knew it was a doctor. He tried to move but felt a searing pain in his left side, where he remembered the knife piercing through his skin. He could almost still feel it now, sharp and shocking, could feel his insides tearing apart. The pain was unbearable now, couldn't tell if it was his vivid memories making it seem worse but he knew he needed help.

"M…m….morphine…" he let the words escape his lips, a weak and pathetic noise, almost a whisper as the sound cracked against his mouth. He didn't care now if he lost the element of surprise, he knew he needed help.

The figure reacted slowly to his plea, turning around and picking up various things behind him then moving towards him with a sinister gait. As his face came into view Brendan couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Paul Browning.

His eyes must have widened in shock by the looks of Browning's self-satisfied smile. Brendan had no idea what he was looking so pleased with himself for. They both knew he had killed Lynsey and that as yet Brendan had let him be. How he had ever got himself off the hook, and now got his job back at the hospital, it was beyond a joke. Brendan felt the anger sear inside of him, rising higher and higher as each second passed, like the pressure building inside of a champagne bottle, ready to pop at any minute.

Then he felt the prick in his arm and almost instantly he felt sated, felt the pain in his torso melt away, felt his anger dissipate, replaced by a feeling of melancholy.

He didn't know what Browning had just injected him with, but it had worked, and he was drifting off now to a peaceful sleep. All the while inside his head he could hear himself screaming to stay awake, that he needed to stay conscious to get to Steven. But the drugs were taking effect and before he knew it, he couldn't hear anything again.


	17. Chapter 17

**_Here's the last chapter guys as promised! Hope you all like how the story ends!_**

Chapter 17

Dawn was breaking the next time Brendan's eyes opened – it was Friday. His eyes blinked, adjusting to the light, and he took a few moments to take in his surroundings. Still in hospital. Still handcuffed to the bed. Still that dull ache in his left side from the knife wound. Still just the figure of one guard outside his door.

Browning walked in at that moment, as if he could sense Brendan rejoining the conscious world.

"Morning Brendan, how we feeling today?" Browning asked, calm and collected, as if he hadn't cold heartedly murdered the girl who was like a sister to Brendan and pinned it on a dead man.

Brendan couldn't believe him, couldn't get his head around how he could just carry on with his life when he knew full well that he had deprived such a vibrant young woman of hers. So callous.

He could feel that same rage building again inside, but took a second to collect his thoughts and remind himself – he needed, above all else, to get out of here and to get to Steven. He needed to control this. He needed to get a grip on the rage that was slowly taking over his body and replace it with rationality. If he kicked off now, he would lose Steven forever. And that just wasn't an option.

He counted down from 10 to 1 in his head, breathing deeply, in the same way that Steven had taught him to do when he needed to control his rage.

"Browning," Brendan responded eventually, noticing his own voice was a lot stronger than it had been in the night. He was recovering, slowly. "The way I see it, you owe me."

Browning considered his words, a smirk covering his lips as he looked up and down Brendan in that hospital bed – saw the blood seeping through the dressing covering his knife wound; saw the metal cuffs attaching him to the side of the bed; glanced at the guard sat watching his room 24/7.

"I really don't think you're in a position to negotiate, Brady," Browning noted, all smarmy and sure of himself.

Brendan beckoned him closer, wanted to look straight in his eyes as he said this, and Browning obliged, leaning in.

"The way I see it, Browning," Brendan started, voice low and threatening, his accent taking on a sinister tone as he spoke, "We both know what you did to young Lynsey, regardless of what Her Majesty's legal system decided. You really think a guy like me is gonna let you get away with somethin' like that Browning? You really think a guy like me don't have people out there who owe me, and you could be just the thing to settle their debt? Think about it."

Browning swallowed hard as he stood back up, his cockiness seemingly bereft now as he let Brendan's threat sink in.

"What do you want?" Browning asked, his voice suddenly losing the power it had previously.

"There's a good lad," Brendan smiled up at him, baring his teeth in a menacing smirk, "All I want now is a razor and some shaving foam, this beard is really starting to piss me off," he laughed, "Chop, chop."

Browning was confused. He was sure Brendan was up to something, but he didn't want to take any chances. He had often thought about Brendan since getting let off for Lynsey's murder, knew it was only a matter of time before he came for him, and was relieved more than anything when he was sent down all those months ago. It seems he may have been a little premature.

He turned and walked out of the room, Brendan noticing how he patted the guard on the shoulder as he left, not looking at him then walking down the corridor.

It was less than 5 minutes before he returned, smiling at the guard as he walked in and closing the door behind them. He pulled the metal razor, bottle of shaving foam and small round mirror from the pocket of his white coat and handed them to Brendan, hesitating slightly before letting them go.

"I'm going to stay and watch you whilst you do it, Brady. No funny business."

"Me? Funny business?" he questioned, mock offended.

"Just get on with it," Browning threatened, standing over him as Brendan took the items and sat up in the bed. It was beginning to get light outside and Brendan knew he had little time left before the morning shift started.

He put the foam over his face, but was having to lean his face down to meet the hand that was cuffed with the bed.

He looked up to Browning, who was watching the discomfort of the situation.

"Ah, come on," he looked at Browning then down at the cuffs, "Help a man out, I'm just trying to shave."

Browning hesitated, then huffed out before standing up and collecting the keys off the table at the bottom of the bed and unlocking the cuffs discreetly. He darted his eyes back to the guard outside the room, who was still unaware, and then fixed them back on Brendan.

"Don't try anything," he warned.

"Thank ye," Brendan smiled up at him, "I wouldn't dare."

Brendan continued to shave, trying to be as quick as he could whilst looking calm and collected. Browning didn't suspect anything so far.

Brendan had always had a beard or a 'tache on the inside – he knew he looked completely unrecognisable without his facial hair – it was all part of the plan. As he shaved off the last line of his beard he took the bed sheet and wiped his face over, looked at himself in the mirror and smiled – the kind of smile Steven would pull when he was feeling pleased with himself. The thought of his boy warmed him, and he knew he needed to move, now or never.

Browning saw he had finished and stood up, ready to cuff him back to the bed but Brendan was too quick. He lashed out with his elbow, caught the underside of Browning's jaw to knock him off his feet, and before he could cry out Brendan wrapped a hand around his mouth and pulled his head into his lap on the bed.

He looked down into Browning's eyes, full of fear and anticipation and staring back up at him with regret – he knew he had walked right into this.

Brendan took his free hand and wrapped it around his neck, tightening his grip as he saw the panic flood Browning's face. He gripped tighter and tighter, watching his face get redder and redder, the veins in his forehead popping up as his body gasped for oxygen.

"I want you to know," Brendan said, slow and threatening as he looked straight into Browning's eyes, each word punctuated and pronounced, "That this is for Lynsey."

The words echoed through the room as Brendan saw the light fade behind his eyes. He released his grip, letting out the breath he didn't even know he was holding, as Browning's body fell limply onto the bed beside him.

Two in a week.

He was a bad person, he knew he was. The blood ran cold through his veins. Browning had it coming. His breathing became heavy and laboured, his mind threatening to lose its control as he stared down at Browning's body.

None died that didn't deserve to die. None died that didn't deserve to die. None died that didn't deserve to die.

He chanted it like a mantra as he moved, knew he couldn't crumble now, knew he had to keep it together and stay strong and _get to Steven._

He looked around, the guard was still standing outside the room, unaware. He could see the sunrise through the hospital window, reminding him he was up against the clock. He looked down at Browning's body, picked him up and started to undress him. He was rushed, hurried, needed his shirt and tie and white jacket. He had his own grey trackies on that he had been wearing when he came in here, but ripped off his hospital robe and starting to button up Browning's shirt, misaligning the buttons on the first attempt and having to undo them and line them up before starting again.

He grabbed his tie, did it hurriedly then swung the white jacket over his shoulders. It was a little too tight for his broad shoulders but he could get it on. He took a deep breath, thinking quickly and manoeuvring Browning's body onto the bed so that at first sight it would look like him, covering him with the bed sheets, and laughing under his breath to himself as he cuffed him to the bed.

He stood up, closed his eyes and said a silent prayer, then walked out of the door. He looked away from the guard, but patted him on the shoulder, as he had seen Browning do previously, hoping the guard would assume it was Browning leaving the room, then kept his head high and walked away.

Keep your head up and just walk, he told himself. He could hear his own footsteps along the floor. All the sounds around him disappeared, all he could hear was his own breathing, in and out, heavy and rushed. It was as if he needed his ears to pop, the hustle and bustle of the hospital ward fading around him as he approached the end of the corridor, blanking out the sounds around him and praying he wouldn't hear the guard shouting after him. He didn't.

He swallowed as he reached the lifts, pressed to open the door and got in. He was alone, thank god. He chose the ground floor and watched the doors close, slowly. When they met he breathed a sigh of relief, shedded himself of the doctors jacket and waited for the lift to stop.

He reached the ground floor, kept his head down, avoiding eye contact with everybody he passed, and headed around the maze of corridors before finally finding the exit.

The fresh air hit him like a refreshing wave, engulfing his senses, and he wanted desperately to stand there and take it in for a few minutes. He hadn't been out in the open air for months, and it may have been the most exhilarating feeling of his life.

But he needed to move quickly. He needed to get away. He wasn't there yet.

He walked, desperately trying to ignore the dull ache in his side. He could tell he was healing, that it was getting better, but knew he still had to rest it and that this walk was going to do him no good.

He turned left, knew the way he needed to go to get to Steven, and started. He wasn't out of the woods yet, but the hard part was definitely over.

-s-

Ste woke early on Friday, like a kid on Christmas day. Today he would hopefully be getting the best present he could ever have imagined – Brendan.

He got up and dressed, pacing around anxiously, dropping things all over the place as he could feel his hands shaking with excitement. It was 9am now – he had no idea how he was going to last another 2 and a half hours before leaving to meet him.

"Fuck it," he said out loud, to nobody in particular. He picked up the bags and took them out to the car before going back into his flat for the last time.

He took a quick look around. They were leaving a lot behind. Not just metaphorically speaking – they were actually leaving behind most of their possessions too. The guys who had agreed to buy the flats were going to hate them. But none of it mattered, none of it was important. All that mattered was him and Brendan and their life together.

He picked up the envelope off the table with the letter he had written for Doug and the contracts for the Deli, turned around and closed the door on his way out.

He walked over to Doug's, keeping his hood up and his head fixed on the pavement so as not to be noticed. He reached the flat quickly, and bent down to post the letter as the door opened. It was Doug.

"Ste?" He asked, baffled by his presence, "What are you…when did you get out?"

Ste held the envelope in his hands and looked up at Doug. He panicked slightly, before reaching over and grabbing him into a hug.

He could feel Doug tense up against him, clearly taken aback at the sudden embrace, but Ste just held him tighter until he eventually relaxed into it, and Ste felt Doug's arms embrace him back.

After a few moments he pulled away and looked up at Doug, holding out the envelope towards him.

"This is for you, Doug," Ste started as he took it from him, perplexed. He started to open it before Ste stopped him, "Don't! Don't read it yet, please."

"What? Why? What is it?" Doug was confused as hell, his heavy brows furrowed in that way that Ste had found so infuriating when they had been together. It usually meant he was about to start crying over Brendan.

"Just trust me, Doug, yeah? I'm going away. You won't ever see me again. Please. Just read this later, yeah? It says everything you need to know."

Doug looked up at him, he saw the desperation in Ste's eyes, so he nodded. He couldn't deny that Ste looked a lot better than he had done the last time he'd seen him, when he'd been drunk at 11am. He looked…_happier _now. Maybe he had something keeping him going now.

Doug smiled and put the envelope inside his bag, as Ste leant in for a quick kiss on his cheek and turned away.

-s-

Brendan found his energy wavering as he walked up the road. He was out of the built up area now and in the country side, which he was thankful for, knowing if he heard a car he could quickly duck into the bushes to hide himself in case it was the police.

He wondered if they had discovered Browning's body yet – he was sure they would have checked on him by now. Whether or not they had figured out it wasn't him or not he wouldn't know. The thought tickled him and he let out a small laugh.

He knew though that once they discovered he was missing, there would be a full-scale man-hunt underway. He needed to get himself to Steven and to the car and out of here as soon as possible.

His stomach dropped as he heard sirens in the distance. He was over half way now - he knew he needed to speed up but the pain in his abdomen was starting to throb now, and he knew he needed to take a short break if he was going to make it all the way. He reached a little village and found a small post office. He had no money on him, but he dipped inside and pocketed a mars bar and a can of coke before heading to the cashier. He distracted her with a little small talk and asked if they stocked glass hammers before walking out with a sigh as she confirmed they did not, leaving her none the wiser to his thieving.

He turned into the village park and sat on a bench under a tree for a few minutes, taking out his coke and mars bar and chomping away furiously. He was so much hungrier than he realised.

He breathed a sigh and leant back as he realised he couldn't hear the sirens anymore.

-s-

Ste got back to the flats and went straight to the car, looked at the time on the dashboard. 10.15am. It would take him 20 minutes to get to the agreed meeting point from here, so he would be almost an hour and a half early. But he didn't care. He couldn't wait around here any longer.

He turned the key in the ignition and drove off. He hoped beyond hope that he wouldn't be retuning here alone later on tonight.

He drove out of Hollyoaks village, through the city centre, past the hospital and out into the open countryside, through the small village on the way to the underpass. He didn't look around him. Didn't pay attention to the people wandering through the village. He was focused on getting to his destination, where all that was left for him to do was wait.

He pulled up, another half a mile on the left, into the large gravel car park. He was the only car parked, there was not another person in sight. It was here that Brendan had told him and Cheryl to wait when they were trying to get away from Walker, whilst Brendan went to find Seamus. Ste thought about that now, wished he had known then what Seamus had done to him, wished he had told Brendan to leave Seamus behind, and they could have all left together and been playing out their happy ever after right now. Things could have been so different.

He turned off the ignition and sat in silence for a few minutes. Thinking about it now, there was so much he would change if he could. If Brendan had told him everything sooner – he would have understood more. He would have known never to accuse Brendan of the attack against Kevin; he would never have pushed him and told him that maybe he was just like his Dad; he would never have doubted him as he had done. He felt sick thinking about it now.

He turned on the radio to distract him, his eyes never leaving the small gated entrance leading up to where he was parked, willing Brendan to appear.

10.43. He would be waiting a while.

-s-

Brendan sat back on the bench, revived from his snack and deliberating his next move. There were a few people milling around the village and he was thankful, knew this helped him blend in a little.

He turned to the elderly man next to him and asked for the time. Nearly 10 to 11. He was so close. Steven was so close. They had to make it this time.

He heard a helicopter overhead. Shit. That must be for him. They've realised he's gone. He started to panic a little, could feel his heart start to thud inside his chest, his breathing starting to become a little ragged.

He tried to calm himself down. Think, Brendan, think. What did he need to do? Act inconspicuous. Blend in. They couldn't see anything from the air, even if they went straight over this park there were people everywhere, there was no way they would be able to pick him up, to tell him apart from the other 3, no 4 men who were sitting leisurely on park benches on this mild autumnal day. He needed to stay calm, to ride it out until he couldn't hear the choppers anymore. If he moved now, they would easily pick out a man stumbling down a country road on his own, or an injured guy waiting in a secluded parking spot, and they would be suspicious straight away. He had to ride this one out; he had to hold his nerve.

He picked up the paper that the elderly gentleman had left and started to read. He couldn't concentrate on the words before him, was sure he kept seeing 'Steven' written a few lines down, but it was a trick of the mind. He flicked through the news, through the finance pages – everything he saw seemed to remind him of his beautiful boy. Cheryl Cole releasing her new album that week – he loved her music; a TV review for that soap he always used to watch and get so heavily invested in – much more invested than Brendan thought was healthy; an article on the presenter of that radio station that he always insisted on listening to on a Sunday afternoon. It was as if the world was taunting him, knowing how much he needed to be with him, how close they were right now, and yet how far away.

After he had read the paper cover to cover he listened out again for the helicopters. There was nothing. He hadn't heard them for a good few minutes now and thought this had to be his chance.

He asked another passer by the time. 12.05. Steven should be there now. He would probably have driven through this village on the way.

He took a deep breath and stood up, slowly made his way out of the park and onto the main road. He knew he would have to be quick. He had about half a mile to go. He was tempted to run it but knew that would be pushing it a little too far - what with the knife wound still fresh in his side.

He stopped again, listened once more for the sound of sirens or helicopters. Nothing.

He turned to his left, head down, and walked on with pace.

-s-

Ste got out of the car. He had been sitting there for over an hour now and he couldn't stand it any longer. The rational part of him knew that he could be waiting all day for Brendan to arrive, that the fact he wasn't here at 12 on the dot didn't mean he wasn't coming, but the irrational part of his mind was working in overdrive. He was sure something must have happened. It was almost quarter past 12 now. There had been nothing on the news about any escaped prisoners. Would that even make the news? He had no idea. Where was he?

He stayed close to the car so he could hear the radio, in case anything came up on the headlines. He was leaning back against the bonnet, arms folded, one foot on the ground and the other bent up and resting against the side of the car.

The silence of the area was suddenly torn apart by the screeching of police sirens wailing away. Ste froze on the spot. No. Had they found him?

He saw the blue lights and three police cars speed past the entrance to the car park. Ste held his breath.

The sound faded away into the distance as the car sped past. They hadn't seen him. They hadn't stopped. They were gone.

But did they have Brendan? Instinctively he started to walk towards the entrance to the car park, as if there was something pulling him closer. There were no other cars parked here, not a single soul for miles around. Yet he was sure he could hear the scrunching of feet against the stones on the road. Uneven footsteps from around the corner, as if it was someone walking with a limp. Ste froze, suddenly feeling vulnerable and more than a little scared. He held back, no idea what he would be faced with if he moved out onto the road.

And then he appeared. No more than 10 metres in front of him. Dishevelled, aching, hurt. But free. He had made it.

Ste ran, as if his legs were giving way under him with each step he took. He fell into Brendan's arms, held him tighter than he ever had before, and felt those familiar arms embrace him back. They were home.

Brendan ignored the pain that had seared up his side when Steven had grabbed him. He ignored the blisters he could feel on his feet. He ignored the pounding in his head and the thirst in his throat and the groaning in his stomach.

All that he thought of in that moment was Steven. The love he felt for Steven, could feel it radiating off his body and seeping into his own. Tears of relief threatened to fall from his eyes, he could feel them stinging already, and they were both laughing into each others shoulders as they stood there, hugging and swaying.

There was still a long way to go, but they had made it back to each other.

After what seemed like forever, Ste finally let go. He looked at Brendan, his face falling as he took in the state of him. He looked pale, almost unwell; his clothes were incredibly mismatched (trackies and a shirt and tie?); and there were leaves in his hair, which he picked out with a confused look on his face.

"Had to quickly duck into the bushes to avoid them coppers," Brendan explained, his expression playful.

Ste suddenly noticed his face. Oh god. How could he not have noticed straight away. He lifted his hand up and traced the back of his fingers down Brendan's cheek. He was smooth. It was so unfamiliar, and Ste broke into a small contented smile.

"This is gonna take some getting used to," his voice was soft and inquisitive, as if he was gazing upon the unknown.

"All part of the escape plan, Steven," Brendan smiled back, and without wasting a further second he pulled Steven close to him and kissed him fiercely on the lips. It was a kiss to end all kisses. It was passionate, gentle, intimate, animalistic and loving all at once. It was fast then slow then fast again. It was a prelude to what was to come later on, once they were away from here and all alone.

"Let's go, Brendan," Ste whispered into his mouth as he pulled out of the kiss.

"Ok, Steven," he whispered back.

And as Ste turned to leave and walk back to the car, Brendan pulled at his elbow to stop him. He looked into his eyes, saw a mixture of adoration and apprehension. Brendan gently traced his hand down from Steven's elbow, along his forearm, and down to his hand. He teased Steven's fingers apart and locked his own in between, intertwining their hands together and squeezing tightly.

He thought the look in Steven's eyes just then could almost kill him. He couldn't possibly look more in love if he tried. He swallowed hard, his smile beaming now from ear to ear, his hand squeezing Brendan's tightly in response. They walked back towards the car, hand in hand, ready to start their new life together. Nothing had ever felt so natural.

Brendan got into the drivers side and started the engine. He knew exactly where they were heading.

He looked over at Ste who was smirking at him.

"Where've you been anyway, you're late?" Ste teased.

Brendan let out a small laugh before responding, "You have no idea, Steven."

-s-

They pulled up a couple of hours later, after Brendan had spent the journey explaining why he was sat there now with a knife wound and how his escape had ended up being from a hospital not a prison, as Ste had listened on in shock and awe. They found themselves now in a small unremarkable looking village on the Scottish borders. It looked to Ste as if they were at some old fashioned tourist attraction, the sort of place he could imagine coach loads of the blue rinse brigade rocking up in a desperate attempt to fill their retirement days.

He looked around the small car park - there must have been only 20 or so cars here, and he could see kids running around a small playing field just in front of him as the autumnal sun beamed down on them. To his left were a few old looking buildings, small and quaint with white washed walls and black roofs. There was a little coffee shop and a gift shop there as well. It seemed to Ste to be a very odd place for them to pop to on the way to their new life together.

"Where the hell have you brought me, Bren?" Ste asked as he looked over to him, look of complete confusion on his face.

Brendan raised his eyebrows and smiled to himself, "We're at Gretna Green, Steven."

"Greckna what?" Ste replied.

"Gret-na, Steven, Gretna Green," Brendan teased, enunciating the 't'.

Ste still looked just as confused, quickly glancing over the buildings as if they could provide him with the answers whirring around his head.

"What is it?" Ste asked.

"You've never heard of it?" Brendan replied.

"Nah," Ste replied, "Go on, Bren, tell me."

"We're here to make an honest man out of you, Steven," Brendan's eyes danced over Steven's face as he drank in the mixture of emotions.

"You what?"

"The part of the plan I wasn't keen on – the changing our names part," Brendan started, Ste nodding away as he remembered Brendan's reluctance to give up calling him Steven, "Well there's something I gotta do first, whilst I'm still Brendan Brady," he leaned over and kissed him gently, "And you're still Steven Hay."

Ste was smiling now, still completely baffled as to where they were, but hoping the glint in Brendan's eye meant this was something he was going to enjoy.

"What's that then Bren?" Ste asked, pleading with his voice.

"Well, Steven," he made sure his accent sounded thicker than ever as he explained, knowing it made Ste melt inside when heard it, "In years gone by, when there were different laws in England and Scotland, you had to have your parents permission to get married if you were under 21 in England, but not in Scotland. So all the young couples used to run away, just over the border to here, Gretna Green, to get married in secret. It's known for its runaway weddings," he paused as he devoured the look of realisation covering Steven's face, "I couldn't think of anywhere more perfect for us to say our vows."

Ste's eyes had widened in shock as soon as the word 'married' had left Brendan's lips. He wanted to marry him? He wanted to be his husband? Is that really what he was asking him right now? That he wanted to walk into that building right now and commit himself to Steven for the rest of his life?

His palms were sweating, his heart palpitating in his chest. Surely he was still dreaming. Surely Brendan Brady was not sitting before him now talking of marriage.

Brendan had never seen anything so beautiful as Steven's face right now. He was so confused, so overwhelmed, so in shock at Brendan's gesture. He knew it hadn't sunk in for Steven yet, so he took the opportunity of the rare moment of speechlessness to say his bit.

"I got Rick to sort out some of the details. They're expecting us in there. He should have given you a sealed envelope to give to me? It's got all the arrangements in it," Brendan waited for Ste to confirm this, but instead he looked like his world was spinning and he had completely lost his balance. Brendan felt suddenly nervous, a flash of heat washing over his face. He prayed he hadn't got this all wrong - that this _was_ what Steven wanted. He couldn't handle the rejection right now, not after everything he had been through to get here.

Ste picked up on the panic that had taken hold of Brendan's expression and reassured him the only way he knew how – by leaning over and kissing him – once, twice, three times, and then again with a passionate full on lip lock, their tongues discovering each other again as if for the first time.

Brendan pulled away almost too soon, got out of the car and walked around to open the passenger door. Ste watched as Brendan looked around the car park self consciously, saw nobody nearby and then lowered himself down onto one knee; the car door wide open and shielding him from view. This was private, despite being so public.

"Steven," Brendan started, taking his hands in his own and looking up into his eyes, "You've brought light into my life like I never thought would be possible. You've saved me from myself more times than you could ever know. You've taught me what it is to be happy again. You've warmed my heart with the unconditional love that we share. I've said it before and I'll say it again, everyday until I'm in my grave you will always be in my head, Steven, and you will always be in my heart. I owe my life to you in so many ways, and I would be honoured if you would agree, right now, to spend the rest of your life with me."

There were no words for how Ste felt in that moment. Tears rolled silently down his face. His beautiful blue eyes were dancing with passion, framed with those unbelievable lashes, so long and elegant. The smile was gradually forming as Brendan's words sunk in; that heart stopping smile that Brendan would just do anything for; that he was knelt down on one knee and baring his soul for right now; that he was so vulnerable in the presence of.

Ste swallowed hard, reached forwards, took Brendan's face in his own and kissed him, before pulling back and holding his hand, linking their fingers together as Brendan had done earlier.

"Yes, Brendan Brady. Yes I will marry you."

_**Told you they would have a happy ending! I may have got a little carried away with the fluff in the end but I hope you all enjoyed it nonetheless. **_

_**Thanks again so much for your support, let me know what you thought of the ending :)**_


	18. Chapter 18

**_Here's a chapter full of fluff to round it all off – I think you all deserve it after sitting through all the drama!_**

**_This was one of my favourite chapters to write, I may have got a little carried away…_**

**_Enjoy :)_**

Epilogue

"What's all this?"

Ste pushed himself up the bed sleepily and looked up at Brendan as he stood there, tray in hand and a smile on his face.

"It's breakfast in bed," Brendan answered, "for you, _Steven._" He let his name roll off his tongue, dragging it out as if it was a treat to be able to say it out loud.

Ste loved hearing it, had missed how that name sounded in his deep Irish lull, the smile on his face showing Brendan exactly how much he appreciated him using it so teasingly.

Brendan leant down and placed the tray on Ste's lap once he had settled upright, placing a sweet kiss against his lips, lingering a little longer than was necessary.

Ste licked his lips as Brendan pulled away, still grinning wickedly up at his man, then looked down at the tray in front of him. He was impressed – Brendan had gone for eggs benedict, with a twist. He was terrible at poaching eggs – Ste had learnt this the hard way – so he had obviously decided to go with scrambled eggs instead. Ste was still impressed with how his cooking skills had advanced over the years though, and looked back up to Brendan with pride.

"Thanks, B," he cooed, using the nickname he seemed to have adopted. He had never got used to using his new name, but when their new friends asked why he called him B, he just told them it was short for beautiful, because that's what he was to him.

Ste's eyes were drawn to the middle of the tray, to a small, square, turquoise blue box with the words TIFFANY & CO along the top in black lettering, all wrapped up in a neat white bow.

He looked straight into Brendan's eyes as he picked it up, Brendan sitting down on the end of the bed and gently stroking along the hairs on Steven's shins in the same affectionate way he always seemed to do now.

"What _have_ you been up to?" Ste asked, receiving a raised eyebrow in response.

Ste shook the box more vigorously than he should, heard Brendan's breath hitch as he placed his hand on Steven's arm, pleading "Be careful!"

Ste laughed and started to pull at the white ribbon, eager to look inside and see what he had been lavished with this year. He pulled the top off the box and saw a small solid silver heart charm lying in the centre of the box. He pulled it out and read the engraving on the back, his heart filling with warmth and love.

_B & S_

_Always_

He looked up to Brendan, his eyes almost filling at the sentiment of his husband. It was the smallest of gestures, that engraving, but it referred to a life they had both left behind, and a memory of a time when they had fallen so far in love, against all the odds, that they couldn't possibly function apart from each other. They had a new life now, new friends, new surroundings, and new names. But they would always be Brendan Brady and Steven Hay to each other.

Ste picked up the tray with his breakfast on and moved it to the other side of their bed, allowing him to climb over to Brendan and into his lap, his knees either side of his hips.

"It's beautiful, Brendan," he kissed him gently, "I love it."

"Well I love _you_," Brendan answered back in a heartbeat, kissing him again, "Can you believe we've been married 10 years today?"

Ste couldn't help but smile, the memory of that day, the start of their happy ever after, still fresh in his mind.

"Actually, I can believe it," he kissed him again, "I never could live without you."

Brendan smiled as he took the heart from Ste and lifted his hands up to Ste's neck, his skin tingling at the gentleness of his touch. He unhooked the chain around Ste's neck and slotted the charm onto it, securing the clasp back together and bringing the heart around the chain until it lay against Ste's chest, next to the cross that was already there.

"Perfect," Brendan smiled as he kissed him, gently at first, then deepening it as Ste opened up and let his tongue inside. They had never lost this passion, this carnal need for each other, this complete lack of control they had around each other. They had always been the same – once the mood had taken them, they couldn't stop themselves, regardless of where they were or who might catch them.

Ste pushed Brendan down onto the bed and fell on top of him, untying his dressing gown and pushing it back over his shoulders. He pulled his own t-shirt up over his head and trailed his hands up Brendan's body as he leant forwards and kissed him again.

He guessed the breakfast was going to have to go cold.

After they had spent the morning enjoying each other thoroughly, Brendan held Ste in his arms, stroking his fingers leisurely up and down the inside of his forearm, stopping over the small tattoo on the inside of his wrist.

"You've not made any ridiculous romantic gestures again this year, have you?" Brendan lifted Ste's wrist up to his mouth and kissed the tattoo.

"Shut up!" Ste retorted, remembering the horror in Brendan's face when he had unveiled that to him 5 years ago today.

"I actually kind of like it now, y'know," Brendan laughed, running his tongue along the five letters etched permanently into Steven's skin. It read, in small scrolled letters: _Brady._

"Really?" Ste looked up at him, smiled when he saw the glint in Brendan's eye, "Well I've always loved it. Reminds me of who I really am."

Brendan rolled over and in one swift movement lay on top of Ste, resting in between his legs, their naked bodies fitting perfectly together as they always did, and kissed him passionately. He released for one second to utter the two most perfect words he had ever spoken, "Steven Brady."

Ste giggled back at him and kissed him again, pulling away and pretending to sulk, "I still don't know why you couldn't be Brendan Hay."

"'Cause that just doesn't sound right, Steven," Brendan smiled and he licked down Ste's jaw line to his ear, nibbling at the lobe and sending a flash of hot air into his ear. He was so close to him that he could literally feel the shudder coursing through Steven's body, could feel him hardening between them as the sensation made its way down.

"Bren, no," Ste pleaded back at him, "Bren, stop it, we can't go again or we'll be late."

Brendan responded to that the only way he knew how to shut Steven up. He kissed down his body and devoured him all over again, feeling his body relent beneath him and knowing he had won.

"Bren," Ste moaned, grasping at his hair as Brendan's head moved further down, "Ok, Bren, but be quick."

Brendan stopped for a second as he looked up at his boy, at his man, his husband.

He smiled teasingly, "I'll take as long as I want, thank ye," and then continued his assault of Steven's senses.

-s-

"You're late," Amy scolded into the intercom as she buzzed them up to their apartment, "You two are always bloody late."

"Sorry!" Ste sung back at her, not a shred of regret in his tone.

Brendan pulled the door open and ushered Steven through, tapping him gently on the arse as he walked past, and receiving a playful scolding from Ste in return.

"It's your fault we're always late," Ste teased as he opened the lift doors and walked inside.

"No, it's your fault," Brendan replied as he grabbed Ste from behind and snaked his arms around his waist, pulling him close and nuzzling his face into his neck, "I can't help it if I can't keep my hands off ye."

"Oi," Ste pushed him back as they reached the second floor and walked up to apartment 27, "Control yourself, B, can't have you drooling all over me with them lot in there."

"Oh, come on, babe, they've seen us doing worse," Brendan winked as he reminded Ste of the times they had been interrupted in the throes of passion. Those were the risks you took when you couldn't keep your hands off each other when the mood took you, any place, any time.

The door opened and Amy greeted them with a half smile, apron on and tea towel in hand as she rushed back into kitchen, the smoke alarm starting to beep as she made her way back. She was flustered with the cooking, as usual.

"You should be used to cooking for us lot by now Ames, it's the same every Sunday," Ste teased as he followed her through to the kitchen, "You know I'll help if you want."

"Yeah well this is my thing, thanks, I do a good roast dinner, even if it's impossible to get all the ingredients over here."

She was referring to New York – where they all now lived. She had moved over here with Lee and the kids whilst Ste was in prison, and a couple of years after skulking around Europe, Ste realised how much he was missing his kids. He had persuaded Brendan to risk the US Border Controls to come over here and join his family, Brendan giving in when he realised he would do anything to see his man happy.

Brendan placed his hand on the small of Ste's back as he ushered them both through to the living room, placing a small kiss on his neck when they passed through the hallway, when they couldn't be seen by the other guests.

"Hi Dads!" Leah beamed as she heard them walk in, turning around on the sofa so she could face them. She was smiling, jumping up to come round and hug them both in turn, Ste first then Brendan.

Ste was sometimes taken back by how much she had grown up. She was 16 now – older than Amy was when they first met – and she was tall, slim and beautiful just like her mom. She was so smart as well, wise beyond her years, and Ste couldn't be more proud of her if he tried.

"Hiya gorgeous," Ste smiled as he hugged her back, still hadn't lost that Manchester accent despite living in New York for over 7 years. "Hi, Lucas," he shouted across to his son on the sofa, engrossed in playing some game on his phone.

"Hi, Dad," came the curt reply, his eyes glancing over quickly to his Dad and then acknowledging Brendan with a small nod. He was at that age now where he found it a little bit weird that he had three dads, and even more so that two of them were married to each other.

"Alright, mate," Lee welcomed as he came into the room, passing a bottle of beer to Ste and then a whiskey to Brendan, "How's life on the busier side of the bridge?"

"Busy," Brendan replied in a heartbeat, disdain in his voice. He had been on at Ste for a few months now about moving out of Manhattan and into a quieter suburb, closer to Amy, Lee and the kids, but Ste loved being in the centre of everything. And it was closer to work for both of them.

Ste shot Brendan a withering look - a warning to pipe down or he would find a way to keep him quiet. Brendan answered back with a wink, the two of them indulging in their own private conversation as usual.

"Dad," Leah interrupted, clear from her tone she was referring to Ste and not Brendan or Lee, "There's someone I'd like you to meet."

Her eyes travelled across the room and fixed on the back of a boys head as he sat on the sofa, and Ste let his eyes follow hers. He felt the shackles on his back rise as his eyes widened. The boy stood up and turned around, facing the three Dads but not catching any of them in the eye. They looked back at him with a mixture of emotions.

Lee had already been introduced to the guy, he was resigned to his existence already, knew Leah was old enough now and if he was honest he had never felt comfortable making decisions about what Leah did with her life – he didn't feel it was his place. Brendan raised an eyebrow, looking the young lad up and down with trepidation, eager to make a point that if he dared hurt Leah, he would have to answer to him – he had always been the protective type.

It was Ste who was the most uneasy with this revelation, however. He still saw Leah as his little girl, and the thought of her being all grown up, doing the kinds of things with boys that he was all to well aware boys her age wanted, left him with dread in the pit of his stomach. She was growing up so fast. He cast his eyes over the lad stood in front of him – tall and skinny with dark features, and longish hair swept over his forehead. He could have been looking at himself 16 years ago.

"This is my boyfriend," Leah beamed as she walked over to him and took his hand, "His name's Dougie."

Ste and Brendan looked at each other then, Brendan not able to stifle his laugh at the sound of that name, and Ste smiled back at him in response. It didn't matter that this lad looked nothing at all like the Doug they had previously known, nor shared any of his mannerisms. It was just a reminder of a time and place that they had left behind, a lifetime ago.

Brendan broke away first, walked up to Dougie and held out his hand. Dougie took it, his handshake firm and strong, looking Brendan in the eye as he shook it.

"You hurt a hair on her head, Dougie boy, and I'll kill ye."

"I won't, Mr Stevens," Dougie assured, his voice stronger than Brendan had expected, and Brendan couldn't help thinking he must be pretty brave to meet all three of Leah's dads at the same time. He remembered his own fear when meeting Eileen's father for the first time – he couldn't imagine having that fear triplicated, and he felt a little bit sorry for the lad.

Brendan nodded at him, dropped his hand and looked up at Ste, who was still stood on the other side of the room sizing the guy up. Brendan wanted to give him a silent warning to _Be Nice, _but Amy rushed into the room to call them through to the dining room and the moment was lost.

They moved through and took their seats at the table, Ste making sure he got in next to Brendan and in doing so found himself sat opposite Leah's new boyfriend. He looked up at him through his lashes with contempt in his eyes; almost pouting at him, and when Brendan caught sight of the look on his husbands face he breathed out a soft gentle laugh and squeezed his leg under the table.

Ste turned to face Brendan, still pouting, and Brendan gave him a look of _Behave_ before leaning over and kissing the pout off his lips, biting down on his jutting bottom lip slightly as he pulled away.

Dougie coughed as he watched their exchange, choking on the drink he had just gulped down. Ste and Brendan didn't flinch, weren't even fazed by it, carried on nuzzling each other, staring into each others eyes as Brendan kissed Ste again.

"You get used to that," Leah whispered to Dougie as she looked over to them, nudging Dougie's arm with a smile on her face, rolling her eyes for his benefit.

"Dad," she called over to Ste, "Can't you guys leave each other alone for, like, a few minutes whilst we're eating," her tone was playful, and Ste detected that hint of an American accent on her again.

They pulled away from each other reluctantly as Brendan glanced around the table, his eyes fixing on the empty chairs.

"Who's late?" He asked as the intercom buzzed, right on cue.

"I'll get it," Amy chimed in; she was bringing the gravy through and hadn't sat down yet.

They started on their meals and heard the apartment door knock, and Amy going through to answer it. Seconds later she walked back in looking rather sheepish.

"Guys," she called to get Ste and Brendan's attention, "Erm, so, we didn't get you anything for your anniversary, but we kinda thought the best thing we could do for you would be to have your whole family together..."

She trailed off as she beckoned the visitors through the door.

"Deccy!" Brendan cried out in amazement, before jumping up, rushing around the table and grabbing him in a loving embrace.

"Hey Da," Declan hugged him back.

It had been years since Brendan had seen his kids. A year or so after the breakout, when they hoped things had died down, they had gone to stay with Cheryl for a few days and then decided to risk the trip up to see them. Eileen had not been impressed, and had been prepared to do anything to keep the kids away from him after the revelations of the previous year, but Declan was old enough then and made his own decisions. He had missed his Da, and knew what he was risking by coming to see him and Paddy, so gave him the benefit of the doubt, prepared to wipe the slate clean and give them all a fresh start. He had sneaked Paddy out of the house and they had spent the day with Brendan, catching up on everything and ironing out all their issues, Dec and Paddy full of questions about what the hell had happened to their Dad since they last saw him.

Since then they had been in constant contact, skyping each other frequently, but they had only seen each other once, a few years ago when Eileen had brought the two boys over to New York for a Christmas treat.

Brendan didn't want to let Dec go, but looked over his shoulder and was even more amazed to see Paddy walk in behind him.

"Paddy, oh god!" He called out as he moved to embrace his younger son.

"Hey," he replied, tentatively hugging his Dad back. Brendan could sense his apprehension, couldn't ignore the fact that his younger son did not know him as well as his oldest, even though he knew that that had been a blessing in disguise at the time.

"So good to see you boys," Brendan was positively beaming, and Ste smiled as he watched him, looking completely shocked and happy.

"You too, Da," Dec smiled back.

"Right, sit down you two," Amy encouraged, "make yourself at home, there's plenty to go around."

They all shuffled around the table, slightly squashed in now what with there being three more than usual, but they all slotted in eventually.

Brendan was still sporting a shocked expression, completely taken aback by the arrival as Ste welcomed Dec and Paddy, introducing the rest of the table to each other.

"What are you guys doing here," Brendan asked, "Not that I'm complaining, of course!"

Dec laughed as all eyes on the table fell on him, "Well, we gotta scope the place out for Paddy, haven't we?"

Confusion clouded Brendan's face as he looked between Dec and Paddy, "Huh?"

"Da," Paddy explained, "I've just accepted a place at the Business School at Columbia Uni. I'm moving to Manhattan."

Brendan's eyes widened even further, pausing for a few moments as the shock sunk in, "Ye kidding me, Paddy?"

"No he ain't," Dec smiled as he revelled in seeing his Dad so dumbfounded for once, "And I'm coming over with him for a few months to help him settle in."

"Paddy, that's brilliant news!" Ste exclaimed, his face shining with happiness for Brendan, knowing this news would be the best he's heard in a long while, "And Dec, that's ace! I think you've just made your old man pretty damn happy, boys."

"Understatement of the century," Brendan let out as he shook his head, wrapping his arm around Paddy next to him and slapping Declan on the arm in the next seat along.

"Told you he'd be happy," Amy smiled at the boys as she lapped up the warmth and happiness surrounding her dinner table.

"Wait," Ste jumped in, smiling, "you knew about this?"

"Why did you think I invited them here?" She raised an eyebrow and smiled back.

"And since when do you talk to my kids?" Brendan questioned, his tone light-hearted and teasing.

"Don't look at me," Amy warned playfully, pointing over at Leah, "It was all her idea."

"Leah, you dark horse," Ste cajoled his daughter, smiling at her as she winked back, knowing she had made her Dad and Brendan ridiculously happy.

"I tell you what, Paddy," Amy piped up again, "You're not gonna be short on friends when they find out you've got a free ride in the hottest restaurant and bar in town."

"Er, who says he gets a free ride?" Ste teased.

"Oi," Brendan answered back playfully, "My sons money is no good at our place, ye know that," then turned his attention to Paddy, "But tell your mates _Brady's_ ain't no frat house, ok? It's a classy bar."

"And restaurant," Ste added with a wink at Brendan.

"Wait," Dougie sparked up, jumping in on the family reunion, "You guys own _Brady's _bar? In the East Village?"

"Yeah," they both replied in unison.

"Oh god, that place is sweet!" Dougie replied back, excitement etched over his face, "The guys on my course were going on about it the other day. Hey," he turned his attention then to Paddy, "stick with me buddy, I started Columbia in the fall, I'll show you around."

"Great, thanks," Paddy replied, a shy smile on his face.

"What?" Ste chirped in at Dougie, face twisted with concern all of a sudden, "What do you mean you started Columbia? How old are you?"

"Erm, eighteen, Mr Stevens."

"Eighteen?!" He repeated back at him, his tone sharp, "Aren't you a bit old for our Leah?"

Brendan sat back and took in the scene before him, smiling to himself as he drowned out the passive aggressive argument between the young lad and his husband, Leah and Amy both jumping in to defend poor Dougie, diplomacy clearly passed down in the genes between them.

He smiled to himself as the conversation moved on quickly, Ste giving in and turning to chat with Lee about how work was going; Amy asking Dec how Ireland was coping without their Dad; Dougie and Paddy starting their friendship and discussing all the best spots in New York; and Leah and Lucas bickering in that loving sibling way, reminding him of himself and Cheryl.

He sighed heavily, a happy, contented sigh, as he leant over to Steven and ran his hand gently down the back of his head, resting on his neck and stroking gently; Ste not even flinching because the feeling was so commonplace, carrying on his conversation with Lee, almost ignoring the affectionate gesture. Brendan felt Steven's foot rub smoothly against his shin under the table, his silent appreciation of Brendan's hands on his neck. It was the little things that made Brendan so happy now, the ways they would touch each other so subtly sometimes – it made his heart leap out of his chest, consumed by love for the only man who ever made his way inside.

He never felt as if he deserved the happy ending. He never thought himself worthy of Steven's love or attention. In the beginning he had claimed it casually, had taken it for granted, and never cherished it in the way he should have done. Over time he felt himself drawn to the lad like he never had before, struggled to admit it at the time but knew that he was different, that when it was just the two of them he felt something unfamiliar – he felt safe; he felt free. He hadn't known how to keep the boy close, had thought he needed to play games, to lure him in through deception, but he had lost him, and he had lost nearly everything through his own behaviour. He thought it was over, but Steven had never given up on him, and had saved him from himself time after time. He wouldn't be here right now without Steven's love and devotion. He never let himself forget that.

Sitting here right now, with Steven by his side; his family chatting away over Sunday dinner as any normal family would; the prospect of his own kids coming over to New York to live near him; and a plate full of food in front of him – he felt like the luckiest guy in the world.

This was their happy ever after. Finally.

**_That's all folks! _**

**_Hope you've enjoyed this story. I know I've said it loads but I really wanna say a MASSIVE thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read this story, to all of you who favourited/followed, and especially those who have left reviews. I have been totally blown away by your kind words! I have never written anything at all before, but was inspired by how amazing the two characters are and their dynamics together. I didn't expect anybody to read it so was amazed by the response – thanks!_**

**_I have got a few ideas for another story so definitely think I will write some more Stendan. I just can't get enough of them!_**

_**See you soon ;)**_


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